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#poetry, dorindaduclos.com, golden. heavens, haiku, life, Night Owl Poetry, poems, sun, sunset
In brilliant golden splendor
You decorate life
Poem & Photo ©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
18 Saturday Jun 2016
Tags
#poetry, dorindaduclos.com, golden. heavens, haiku, life, Night Owl Poetry, poems, sun, sunset
In brilliant golden splendor
You decorate life
Poem & Photo ©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
18 Saturday Jun 2016
Tags
#poetry, dorindaduclos.com, eternity, Night Owl Poetry, poems, Rust, secrets
My secrets, silently kept
In perdurable rust
©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo: Pixabay
17 Friday Jun 2016
Posted in Friday Fantasy, Poems, Poetry
Tags
#poetry, dorindaduclos.com, ethereal, fantasy, Friday Fantasy, gossamer, Harmony, light, Night Owl Poetry, peace, poems, shadows, spirits

They cast away shadows that loom in the night
Spirits of harmony, in mystical flight
Gossamer beings, they mix with the lands
Caressing the treetops, with unseen hands
Creating an ethereal layer of white
Coating the earth, with their peace and their light
©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo: Pixabay
17 Friday Jun 2016
Posted in Friday Fantasy, Poems, Poetry
Tags
#poetry, dorindaduclos.com, fantasy, Friday Fantasy, Labyrinth, lost, maze, Night Owl Poetry, no escape, passageways, poems

Sunlit swirls of passageways, lead me through an endless maze
Back and forth, round and round, corridors that do confound
Left turn here, then go right, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this sight
A perplexity which does conceal, deep underground, a world surreal
Brick and mortar, interlace, no exit to escape this place
I’ll keep running through the halls, ever lost inside these walls
©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo: Pixabay
17 Friday Jun 2016
Posted in Friday Fantasy
Tags
#poetry, dorindaduclos.com, fantasy, Friday Fantasy, Night Owl Poetry, part 4, short story, The Visitor, writing

Years passed, silence surrounded the town, and people went on about their business. The chill in the air indicated an early winter was upon them. The town had not seen a bad season in quite some time. Yes, it snowed, but only enough so the children could enjoy making snowmen and sledding down the hill. The town folk found peace this time of year, for the graveyard that lay nearby would be covered over. The unsightly headstones would be pristine, covered in a white gloss, shimmering against the sunlight. Best of all, Jocelyne’s grave could not be seen, and she would, once again, be forgotten.
Her antics about town were well known, her escapades through houses expected. She no longer posed a threat. She was dead. And in the winter months, when the grounds froze over, she would disappear. No one really knew why, except perhaps Timothy. Something about her grave kept him drawn to her. He was five then, that fateful day he watched her die. His parents didn’t know, he took shelter in the barn, a clear view to the place where Jocelyne Joubert was executed.
to be continued…