In the wind
lingers the stench
of blood.
Tick Tock.
Mixed with
screams screached
by a silent
clock.
It's 3 a.m.
again and again.
Listen,
outside
the voices talk.
And they say
what only, I say.
And they know
what only, I know.
They call
and beckon, with
plans
of a lesson, to
teach me
I have nothing
to woe.
But lo!
How their dark eyes
sting, in their heart
you can hear
the devil
sing.
I believe
they have
the purpose, to chase us
to curse us.
Til the day we
fly away
on white wing.
A contest entry
- They love the taste of Blood by lie.
300 points, ended February 25, 2008, 4 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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wow this is really good i love the way its i layed out to
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marking this as 'contemporary' then utilizing the word "lo" is what people would call on oxymoron.
... I have no clue what you're talking about, or who you're addressing this piece about.
Try to elaborate. -
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in all honesty i don't think i was talking about anything. i no it's vague, i was just trying to capture an emotion rather than a story.
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In order to convey any emotion you have to tell a story to a certain extent.
we are the experiences we endure.
If I say the leaves are green it doesn't necessarily mean I enjoy Summer.
Got me?
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well, personally, I found this to be very like spoken word, and although short stanza's I find hard to read (I'm weird though) It was very good!!
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thank you for you comment. everyone seems to be saying the same thing about this piece. hmmm it's put questions on my mind.
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This piece seems a bit like spoken word, and when I think of it as such, I find a different flow to it. It's really hard for me to critique this piece without bias because I am not a fan of short-lined stanzas. Otherwise, it was a pretty good write... Not really my subject-matter, either -- but otherwise presentable.
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Thank you for your citique. I honestly entered this contest because I've been out of the poetry loop for a bit and comming back I searched some names from old contests I've been in. I knew here I would find the most honest people, that would tell me what they really think of each poem I enter.
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