Hunched and feathered
expectancy;
calculated patience
in the silent dawn air.
Time itself
a malignancy;
a festering tumour
callously devouring her lifeblood.
Bitterness of death
becomes honey on her tongue;
she waits
to join him.
Author notes
Photo credit to: Peter Lindbergh
A contest entry
- Bitter Batter, Pitter Patter. come have a look-see! by Sailor Ptolema.
875 points, ended July 9, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I like this a lot. There is a coldness to this piece that is as cold as the grave itself. The stanza below describes this piece to a 't':
Time itself
a malignancy;
a festering tumour
callously devouring her lifeblood.
That is exactly how one can view 'Time'. And the grave awaits...
Fantastic writing.
Darkness
Reigns
Wayne Leon
-
Love the dark bite to this! Great wording!
Goes well with the picture, too.
I like it all, but especially,
'Time itself
a malignancy;
a festering tumour
callously devouring her lifeblood.'
Great job! Best wishes in your contest.
-
Oh ! A very interesting take! It's short, but quite powerful! I like the despondency and hopeless that you bring along with the tart bitter taste that the words leave in the readers mouth. How interesting too, that she waits to join her lover in death...You leave a lot to think about, like just how long is she going to wait?
thank you for entering my contest and g'luck!
S. P.~
-
Wow dark and deep for you hun, great job here Love, C
Adding your comment:
