On each word, I feel the chasm growing.
The tombless grave encased within me waits.
Scent of afterdeath revealing
taste beyond the love he hates.
Demons dance in sordid celebration
at my human weak mortality
Mourning angels in the distance
for my fading eyes to see.
With each page, my coffin bed completed
no despair, emotionless I lie.
Slowed response, motionlessly futile
as my soul, departed left to die.
Author notes
Crediting Google for the Picture Prompt.
A contest entry
- The Dark Velvet Contest by Wayne Leon Learmond.
2150 points, ended July 3, 2008, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Another good entry here. Again, I like the atmosphere that this conveys. Such a cold cold feeling with this one. Such despair. Your rhyme is superb.. [Check your spellings] 'tomb -less
'after-death'
Good luck in the contest.
Dark
Wishes
Wayne Leon
-
Poetry with the flavor of death
Scent of afterdeath revealing
taste beyond the love he hates
...these lines are definitely straight from a devils lips.
Well done!
wolf
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oups. this scares me but i like the idea and the flow of the poem.your poem makes me feel cold because of this so much talking of death and dancing demons
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