A Country Girl's Writing

High above the misty mountains  Beneath the creeping, looming sounds. Hideous monsters prowl around, In a grim, gruesome battleground. A lethal monstrous place to roam For any human that I know.  You'd never make it out alive Unless you know the Shiverouse tribe. The Shiverouse you can not trust; Bury you while you still converse, And if you become their ally Yes, even then, you still might die.  If you did make it through alive  You'd wonder quite how you survived. The Shiverouse tribe has wiped you brain, So that others you might not train.  This place will haunt you all your life, Bringing nightmares each day and night.  No one that lives is e're the same Once they've stepped foot in that dreadful place.  By Evelyn Creon

I peered beneath the surface A view caught my gaze, One of distant beauty That none could ever gage. It was powerful and priceless, Full of deadly and living things; Of animals and bees. The creatures all seemed calm And in perfect harmony. Maybe never seen before By a human like me. Though I knew I shouldn't I couldn't help myself, So I touched the surface with my finger. I had no fear and little doubt. With an unbearable pain I drew it back As I watched the ripple I created poison everything. The surface that I'd touched The beauty that I'd seen Slowly seemed to fade And shrivel up and die. My finger it got worse And my tears didn't help. My body began to shake uncontrollably. I tried to grasp for something But in vain there was nothing. I fell to my knees in dreadful agony And passed out from the pain. When I awoke I could barely stand. The sight I saw gave me no doubt That I was the human Who had snuffed life out. Out of a wor...

Another dark poem. Written a couple weeks ago.  I felt the breathe and presence Of something dark and dirty. It sent a frozen chill Up my heated body. I shivered in the cold That bit me in the back, and whispered in the darkness, "Please, give me one last chance." I there than became aware, Rime fingers on my shoulder. I tried to move away They grasped me much harder. The warmth in my body It slowly diminished. As I stood there by myself Ice forming on my body. I endured the ice crawling, Descending my arms and legs, Taking lastly my heart. That's when it stopped beating. When the ice ceased crawling It's sweet, eerie, voice said "Ice is a pleasant color To look at upon your head. " No longer could I answer, Nor could I cry-out in pain. I stood there dead, with dread Frozen upon my face. By Evelyn Creon

The blue jay's caw is sinful; Very simular to the crow. It tells of somethings brutal; That could take place in many rows. In rushing blast, come the wind. Affirming the jay's caw was right. The grayness steps foot within; Bringing with, the black of night. In the darkness none discerns; What lays no more than out of sight. Such reasons are to concern The utmost, blackest parts of night. Where creatures lurk, ever near. To catch a brief glimpse of their dupe. Driving their prey into fear, Before making them into human soup. The blue jay's call is heinous; Very simular to the crow. That's why we should take notice So not to take a fatal blow. By Evelyn Creon I have began to have a thing for a little darker poems and stories. This poem was inspired by the screech of a blue Jay and the day coming to an end. 

Cold sweat, and blood  Hit the ground; Leaving a puddle  On the concrete.