By the midnight firelight,
On this cold and dreary sight,
The windows bleed tears of sweat.
Their thoughts of Mary Antoinette.
The logs burn long and seemingly slow,
Their flickering dance comes and goes.
The darkness runs along the walls,
The bitter cold within the halls.
She sleep the days and slumbers the nights,
Her fever runs through the heights,
Of clouds of towering granite gray.
The burn still restless with decay.
Mary sleeps when she can,
Her dreams are riddled with a man.
He holds her life within his pocket,
It lives within a golden locket.
He smokes the days last cigarette,
His thoughts of Mary Antoinette.
He shrugs the sleep from his eyes,
He will spare her deaths demise.
A contest entry
- Give me your very best!!!! Tons of points! by God is my reality.
1450 points, ended November 24, 258 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest - prewrite contest 1st come 1st serve by serenity silvermoon.
900 points, ended November 14, 406 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
-
Fantastic!!
I didnt know you could write this good!! 
You're a great writer!! I really like this poem, you are very good with words . Loved it!
Liz
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very deep with words. great write.
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