A glimpse. A glimmer.
Light contorting itself
Through moth holes in
Ancient lace curtains,
As the twilight caresses
Velvet-ice protected ebony-chilled skin.
Tears of kaleidoscopic shame
Fall from obsidian eyes,
As she imagines what she created;
She hears in her schizophrenic mind
The echoes of parental sobs,
Resonating in empty halls of thought.
Her eyes were as blind to the world as Oedipus to the truth.
Her pink carnation lips were sealed;
No sound dared to escape.
Flawless ears no sound detected,
And no scent her nose could find.
She was a prisoner, in herself, limited to touch.
A photograph hung from cobwebbed walls;
Her mother’s eyes pricked her skin.
Wings and a velvet cloak
Gave the identity of the....creature...
Midnight skin shivered at her mother’s name –
She was the daughter of Death.
Petals of blood on her forehead,
She wiped away with the back of a gloved hand.
A single strand of silver wispy hair came loose
From a normally tidy braid,
Reaching down her back
To a waist laced so tight, it made even the blindest of men stare.
A lily-white silk wedding gown, clung
To a body perfectly formed.
Her beauty was flawlessly unmarred,
And enchanted even the most frozen of hearts.
Her beauty was all that she could rely on…
That…unchanging…irresistible…beauty…
Dove feathers trapped
In a veil of embroidered netting,
Weighed down by
The flesh of one of her unborn victims,
Hung from her innocent head.
Blood from her latest victim clung to the feathers like dried rose petals.
The rustle of her diamond sprinkled taffeta overskirt
Created enough static to pick up dust,
As she sumptuously glided over bare, rosewood floorboards;
Her train was dirtied by the dust,
Commonly found in the mausoleum of passion
Where she resides alone.
A footstep on a threadbare carpet step
Should have alarmed her;
Her silent world forbade her
From getting the warning she deserved,
Thus she continued in her efforts
To make herself beautiful to her beloved light.
A masculine voice found its way
Throughout the mansion and into her boudoir.
Still oblivious to her uninvited guest
She lifted her sapphire encrusted sword high,
With the same grace as how she walked,
And with a single strike, shattered the skull of her victim.
The blood curdling sound found the ears
Of the guest now terrified for his life.
He ran up the fragile stairs without a thought,
And thus came face to face with the blood stained child.
He fell to his knees in futile prayer,
As he, reluctantly, fell in love with her.
“You are beautiful,” he muttered to her.
She failed to hear him, but the world heard his scream.
As the haze of love faded, he saw her as a child.
Everyone near came running, most were armed.
Before they let themselves fall in love with her
They shot her repeatedly, before turning their weapons on themselves.
She fell to the floor,
Dancing with the lead inside her.
The beauty all loved
Remained to be hers.
Surrounded by only the dead,
She had no hope of love.
Her reign of life, and beauty, was over.
In the confusion of the events bodies were found.
The media found out and the news travelled fast;
Soon the world knew that Death worked not alone.
They celebrated the murder of the child,
With fireworks, and parties, and dancing.
“She was just a child…”
“…Many of her victims, still yet to be found…”
“…Police claim to have found over six hundred bodies…”
“She was but a child”
“…This freak of nature was sent to test us…”
“…She is the devil…”
“…It is unknown why her skin was pure black…”
“…Her human appearance was deceiving…”
“…Her body has been misplaced, police claim…”
“We need to remember she was only a child…”
“…We have now found the Devil’s number written on all of her 665 victims…”
“…It appears she found herself to be her last victim…”
Newspapers and radio stations help to spread the word like wildfire.
Amongst all the confusion all failed to notice,
She rose up from her fiery grave,
And like a phoenix began to reign again.
Her beauty still unmarred,Her reign of terror, never over.
The Daughter of Death survives all.
She is just a child after all.
Author notes
performance, but not scrictly. i like it read silently too.
s h a d o w p r i n c e s s
In a list
A contest entry
- Darkwrite by darkyinsoul.
550 points, ended July 16, 26 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Poetry in Opposition (Round 1) by Progandother.
900 points, ended August 10, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Macabre Madness by Miss Macabre.
550 points, ended August 2, 23 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Stories in Verse by Samyuktha P.C..
1000 points, ended September 13, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Surrender To My Madness (Round One) by Agrona.
780 points, ended September 11, 40 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Pre-writes open for 12 hours!!! by letters to no one.
700 points, ended September 6, 27 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The Phoenix Road by micaelalseth.
700 points, ended September 8, 14 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Contest of Vulgarities and Obscenities by Manic Reverie.
400 points, ended September 23, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Poe Poetry (pre-writes allowed) by laiqua aran.
450 points, ended September 5, 6 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Horror, Blood and Macabre by Hikari Lady.
1200 points, ended October 17, 22 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Golden Delights by JToddUnderhill.
700 points, ended November 23, 47 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 44 of 44
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Pow.....!
Take that, what a well written tale. Loved the last line, and my favorite is “…We have now found the Devil’s number written on all of her 665 victims…”
“…It appears she found herself to be her last victim…”
Fitting in a way!
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thank you ^_^
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*entranced*
you are a god of poetry...i cried at this poem. -
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lol goddess - i'm female XP lol but i'm neither, i just write what my mind sees.
but thank you ^^
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This was amazing!! Wooow indeed, you've written the story very well and I loved the tone of ironic at the end. A write worth reading indeed, it gave me a chill at the end. Thanks fpr enetring and good luck.
Love
~Noor -
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thanks for the kind words.
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Wow!!! What a read you have here honey! Just a bit of an eerie read......
You really are a well rounded writer! This is amazing!!
Congrats on the trophies honey!
and love
Mom
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awwwh thank you!!
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Very well written...
This was very well written and deserving of the Silver. Very eerie indeed. Your imagery was great. I could could follow the subject in my head with every moves she made. I saw her in my head. Congratulations on your Silver.
lilangelsnemesis -
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thank you ^_^
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Well it is certainly a dark story, I would prefer my epic poems in rhyme and metre but there is some beautiful language here
Thank you for the read and for entering my contest
L a
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thanks for the kind words.
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It seems everyone here agrees this is a fantastic piece, and rightly so it is. It is long but keeps the interest up. With the amount of times you've entered this poem in contest, I'm a little surprised it hasn't won more than the one gold trophy above. Beautiful dark imagery carries this poem all the way to the end. Take care and thanks for sharing this poetic and bloodthirsty masterpiece here.
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thats so kind of you! awwwh thank you!!
this poem is my baby, so its like a proud mother being told what a beautiful baby she has lol
thanks again
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Holy fuck ^^. It was a little long, but then again what good epic isn't. I love the end of this piece and the metaphors where fantastic. Thank you for entering.
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your comment made me giggle, many thanks!
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"She was a prisoner in herself, limited to touch." Your imagery and phrasing is absolutely inspiring and this story gave me chills. I'd be honored if you decided to enter my contest The Phoenix Road. Beautiful write
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i'll take a look now ^_^
thanks ever so much for the kind words.
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(bows low and kneels)
If darkness be a name and a body and a face and a sound...this piece will be its voice.
(grins)
Decidedly devistating to fit my taste, something beautiful, raw and pained. Twisted, sadistic and maimed. And I fell in love with such brilliance. Words in this instence are worthless and cannot describe my speechless state of mind as my throat closes off to words and only your words remain to echo in my mind.
I congradulate you on making it to the finalists list as the first, and one of the most brillinat, pieces I have ever seen.
(rises from her stance and bows once more, grinning)
Very well penned. Very well indeed.
Thank you for entering and best of luck to you,
Your Czarina,
~Seraph -
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i believe it is my turn to be speechless. i have never had a comment as... well... ive never had a comment like this before. this piece is my baby, its the one i hold close to my heart. to be told that this would be the voice of darkness... oh my...
from the bottom of my heart, i thank you <3
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Performance, indeed! We can work on this differently for a performance (not probably used line by line). I really liked the entry for it caught the spirit of the contest. Thank you. Best of luck
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hehe thanks. you shouldve seen it when i performed it. its my baby!
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That's really pretty, and it will probably give me nightmares.
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thanks, kastor, youve made my day.
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Wow. Fantastic! i your imagery, but im just scrabbling for words really. its awesome
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awh thanks vamp ^^
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The devil's numver is 666 refering to the point in Christ's life in Bible where he spent 40days and 40 night in the desert alone with the Temptations. The Bible describes it as the devil, that perhaps hell is not a place but temptations to lead you away from God's Heaven and that 666 incarved in the church towers which Jesus climbs under the Temptation's guide to jump from and end all his pain.
LOL i had to correct you on that.
Your spelling is perfect [or it is to me] the speech giving us the human touch after so much graphic horror, just the thought of it, and to a child. But, does is really make a diference if you kill a child or pregnant mother? Take someone's father from their kids or just kill the kids themselves? Tricky that.
Super dooper as ever you wonderfull poet!
Best of luck in all your writting hun,
Ecki
P.S I go away tomorrow, going camping -whoop whoop- so I wont be on again until this time next week or Friday. Sorry love.
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yes it is ^_^ 665 is one less than 666, she was her own last victim, before coming back to life again. if that makes sense at all lol
personally, the idea of death doesnt effect me. its a part of nature. it pissses people off that i dont cry when someone dies. its meant to happen.
murder is different, someone goes before their time and all that. the whole thing with this piece, is who is to be blamed? the little girl? she's 5, can she really be responsible? her mother, death? its her job to kill, like the army. who is to be blamed for the girl's actions?
you lucky cow lol have fun!!
thankies <3
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seriously, BRILLIANT
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thanks ^_^
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...I enjoyed this piece very much (as I shall now say in the magical paragraphs that follow):
...the structure and metre of the piece was set out like a story...the main difference of course being that the use of adjectives and metaphors were merged with the style of prose poetry...
...the context of the story...for some bizarre reason at first I thought you were describing a spider killing it's victims...of course I was proven wrong with the final death in the story...proving me wrong is a good thing...so another brownie point for you...YAY!
...you have a very good vocabulary...very few people I know are aware of the Oedipus complex in any shape or form...and to see the mention of it in a poem with it's polysyllabic magic is music to my eyes...yes I do mean eyes I can't hear a written word...
...very well done and good luck in the contest...
Oliver
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well oliver, thank you ^_^ and congrats in getting through it lol
thanks again. it does mean a lot ^_^
and i'm a classics student. was. was a classics student. so we looked at oedipus, elektra, medea, bacchae, hippolytus, and some others. but basically we saw the beginnings of freud's work 2000yrs before freud was born.
so thanks again.
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Tears of kaleidoscopic shame
Fall from obsidian eyes,
As she imagines what she created;
She hears in her schizophrenic mind
The echoes of parental sobs,
Resonating in empty halls of thought.
favorite lines loved it
good luck -
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hehe thankies.
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When I finished reading this my first thought was that whomever this person is...
he or she probably does not write poetry as his or her first love, but instead writes either short stories or novels and poetry is something that he or she does as a hobby on the side, although he or she does it equally as well.
You have an uncanny ability for story telling and you have made that perfectly clear with this chilling tale of a child who willing kills of her own free will. You have done so will incredibly unique imagery so as by the time the reader has reached the end of the poem there is no doubt in their mind they have taken this visual journey in reality in part through the minds eye... because you have so masterfully manipulated the readers mind to believe that!
Congrats on the gold trophy, the contest host certainly chose a well deserving write! You are certainly a worthy competitor!
Again, congrats,
Suzi
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really? thats odd. poetry is my first love, and i write stories etc, as a hobby.
thank you, ever ever so much. firstly for actually being able to get through it all, and secondly for a comment so wonderful as this.
thanks again,
shadow.
ps: i'm female ^_^
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Lets start with the last two lines, FABULOUS! its a news story in poem style, and I love the speach to. Quite difficult to read because of length but a great poem none the less. I loved:
''Petals of blood on her forehead,
She wiped away with the back of a gloved hand.''
The first line is great imagery almost as if evil was always present around her.
A great write, good luck.
xYx
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you shoul have seen the original (this is the rewrite) it was nearly 5 times longer!
and that's exactly it. is the evil around her, from her, or because of her background?
i was born in a society where the people to blame for another's wrongdoings, are simply, and always, the parents. in here, it is not death committing the acts, but the daughter, out of her own free will. following in her mothers footsteps, or not?
sorry, i like being thought provoking lol
thank you for reading it, and staying with it long enough to comment. personally, i'd've given up after the third stanza -is guilty of doing it on this piece-
thanks again!
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Wow well impressed
The imagery most excellent
Welcome to the finalist
Good luck you
Darky
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oh wow, thank you!
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wow
an excellent poem,
a great read
good luck in the contest
well done -
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thank you ^_^
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Through moth holes in
Ancient lace curtains,
As the twilight caresses
Velvet-ice protected ebony-chilled skin <-- beautiful imagery.
Tears of kaleidoscopic shame
Fall from obsidian eyes,
As she imagines what she created;
She hears in her schizophrenic mind
The echoes of parental sobs,
Resonating in empty halls of thought. <- breathtaking beauty
ok before i get carried away. I love the whole thing
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why do i get the feeling that, if you had your way, you would post the whole thing? ^_^
very many thanks.
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