The black voice howls
A stranger cowls
His head beneath the sun -
The people flee
Crying for mercy
From his ancient gaze -
Clouds gather
For he would rather
Storm than the sun -
And with it comes
A mist that numbs
The heart within their chests -
And one by one
Though they run
The mist comes tumbling after -
The darkness rings
Living beings
That are no longer -
He smiles.
Author notes
I'm not entirely sure where this came from...
What did you think
Comments
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I can relate to this poem, every so often I write what I call an inkblot poem...pretty much the way it bubbles up from my subconsicous. Yup, I could give it a better plot and perhaps a clearer message, or try to make it more profound somehow... but in all reality that won't make the poem any better. Either people can catch the emotional drift and decypher the images or they can't. All in all I enjoyed the read.
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^^ Thank you. Yes, I definitely know what you mean, though. It doesn't happen often, but when it does...
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