Roaming, searching, hunting.
She comes through the road on the darkest of nights
looking for those to feed on.
Preying, stalking, calling.
One of a million, one of a billion,
she's beautiful in the evening light.
Dancing, curving, strutting.
Only the garbage finds her appealing,
could never catch one of strength.
Beautiful, manipulative, whore.
She consumes the emotion owned by men of weak wills
flies away somewhere else.
She'll be back.
She'll be back to finish you.
Author notes
I thought of the type of woman I would call "The princess of crows". I've never liked crows, they're dirty animals and not even as alluring as ravens. I saw a crow-like woman being someone who fed on the weak, beautiful yet cruel, circling and pouncing on already half eaten prey.
A contest entry
- Princess of Crows by Gypsie Ink.
300 points, ended August 18, 2008, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Delicious!
Fantastic take on the prompt. Colorful and provocative. Thank you for your unique entry and best of luck in my contest.
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