Desolation drapes the night like a funeral shroud
the frigid wind howls a mournful requiem,
a small tortured voice prays for vengeance aloud
trembling with pain and long repressed odium.
"Curse the creator that left me cold and forsaken
certain his absence would expedite my demise,
how I long to prove the heartless cur mistaken
removing his entrails right before his glazed eyes!"
Furtively clinging to the castle’s rough façade
this wretched aberration fights the gnawing desire
to feast upon humans like some dark angry god
rapaciously devouring their precious inner fire,
for only one repast will sate its emptiness
and soothe the foul anguish festering deep within,
to sup upon the master’s heart, savoring his distress
erasing the conceited smile from his mocking chin.
**Author's Note: Since it is October I shall be posting up a series of dark poems, many inspired by pictures on other sites for contests and such. Enjoy!**
Are You Reading Me?
Hey, what better time to get all that darkness out in the light! Good write. Shirl
ReplyDeleteBeen updating myself on your poems, and I just had to say how the last stanza of this piece completely blew me away... The conviction streaming through the whole poem ends with a potent image; I applaud.
ReplyDeleteCheers.
Hey Shirley, thanks, yes and I'm currently reading a Stephen King book so who knows what goriness can be explored ;)
ReplyDeleteHi soulless thank you, it was inspired by some awesome art which helped a lot! Take care,
Bob