Riders in the Night

Outside, in the distance
a wild cat did growl
two riders were approaching
the wind began to howl. -Bob Dylan

Hoofbeats on the tundra!
Beneath a mage’s moon
she draws her shutters closely,
prays morning finds her soon.

Thunder shatters silence,
a rapping at her door
tears the night asunder–
a wild cat’s chilling roar.

All along the cornflower
rows, shadows dance with glee,
seeking answers as the wind
howls by a lone oak tree.

Dawn finds an empty homestead–
bleeds in through broken panes,
across spilled dill an’ fennel
and spattered, rusty stains.

Ryan Stone

first published by Poppy Road Review, August 2017

April 6, 2024 24

Ghosts at Dawn

Too thin –
you now exist
within

a pause
as dawn retracts
her claws

from day;
you fade, while I
must stay.

Ryan Stone

April 4, 2024 42

Unshackled

A breeze
blows in, lifts her
with ease,

this shell.
As I whisper
farewell,

Godspeed.
The ties that bind
recede.

Ryan Stone

April 1, 2024 34

Shades

Her kiss
at dawn is what
I miss

the most –
as day break sings
a ghost

refrain:
love dims to dust
and pain.

Ryan Stone

March 31, 2024 53

Bonnie & Clyde

On a Monday I met her, but should’ve known better-
moon days bode ill for new friends.
Lunar sea tides with light and dark sides
make Monday trysts wane to weak ends.

Aphelion eyes, dark hair and toned thighs
presaged a blue moon ascending.
With a wink and a gun, she blocked out the sun
in total eclipse, never-ending.

Said, taking my hand: you’ve the look of a man
who’d rather not sleep ’til he’s dead.
I refuse to work harder or pay for my Prada,
let’s dance with the Devil instead.

We ran for a time on a dream and a dime,
both stolen and hard to sustain.
At the trail’s grim end, a posse of men
machine-gunned love’s final refrain.

Ryan Stone

First published at Poetry Nook, May 2017.

March 31, 2024 20

Rhyme of the Kingdom

Over the mountains
and down to the sea,
you must come now
if you hope to break free.
No time to mourn
for Autumn’s red bowers;
the light we once made,
now darkness devours.

I can play you
the rhymes of the kingdom,
I can sing you
the songs that you know;
but we must take wing
from this darkened halo –
we must take wing
for a devil wind blows.

Break from your prison
of urban malaise;
run to the ocean,
fly from your home.
I offer no promise
that we’ll make it –
but take my hand
and I’ll never let go.

– Ryan Stone