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I'm writing something new (surprise!). The first book of a new series called "The Seers". I see fivish books in this one, and the first (Spirit Talker) is weird, with poems taking the place of chapters here and there.
Here's one:
The Dark
Do you feel them
creeping there?
Beyond the door,
under the stair
Roiling belly,
whisper, glare
Dark energy dwells
there
You’re right to
shun the musty rooms
Forgotten casket,
eternal tombs
Headache pulsing,
thick dread looms
Heavy heart,
impending doom
They reach with
twisted fingers, limbs
Hot, bubbling
beneath the skin
Encite the boiling
fear within
Paint canvasses of
chain-linked sin
Once tethered, they
will grasp and hold
With frost-lined
tendrils, veins of cold
Infused with
thoughts and dreams so bold
To terrify, sicken
and drain when told
So do not let them
hang from you
Dripping menace,
sticky dew
Hell’s honey
clinging endless to
The secret danker
spots in you
Turn body and
mind’s eye away
T’ward lighter
thoughts, dwell in the day
Let paths of good
lead you and sway
Your tendency to
joyful play
Turn, child, be
safe! Build solid home
Between sinew and
blood and bone
Hold strength and comfort,
lessons shown
Your beating heart is not alone
