Husk pressed softly downward
feathered weight folds
empty extremities into themselves,
A proper specimen
of reptiled leathered
skin discarded.
Excavated with muddied hands,
hours no seconds
and laid glyphs
scratched in
given blood,
the husk rattled by breath
lays gaping, yearning, dead,
a mixpot at her head,
babbling.
A wraith someone glides
with his intention, shimmering
as smoke, to her abyssal eyes,
and with a ringing tok of thought,
his amoeboid hands shudder-
grasp the potlip, and feeble whisp-arms,
chattering with effort, lure the bubbling,
blaspheming, brackish-brew,
tumbling
‘tween her ribs.
The skinhusk,
lost within her dried death,
rasped and roiled as
she inflated.
spectre-sighed delight
scalding liquor melting salt
of arid veins,
congealed chords stitched
dismembered remains,
black as bile, flesh,
her death incarnate life
roiled from a plague-mote heart,
beating.
Eyes layered themselves together
Lady Skinhusk, completed, rose,
and Sir Wraith sunk into the shadows.
A contest entry
- Hallow out your heart. by Nuclear.
2000 points, ended November 4, 2007, 11 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This is a very intriguing write, and maybe I have read it wrong a few times; I like it whether my interpretation is right or wrong. I actually had to have a friend help me with your words.
She figured that [A] it’s a witch, [B] snakeskin is being used in a ritual, and [C] the creation is Lady Skinhusk.
Your use of higher vocabulary is fantastic; it was great to not see the same tired words played over and over in this piece. The few words that aren’t actual words such as, potlip and mixpot were easy to understand.
One question: what exactly is a TOK?
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Im glad you liked it. You really shouldn't be worred about a right or wrong interperetation, I write all my pieces to be felxible in that regard.
One answer: Onomatopoeia, as in tick-tok
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