Rain turned to ice,and lightning splintered, it splicedthe black sky, it seeped a bright white.All animals they fled,from the sky as it bled,pale death that fell veiling the night.
Poetry is an old wise serpent which only occasionally comes out to catch the sun (and scare people).
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Poetry is an old wise serpent which only occasionally comes out to catch the sun (and scare people).
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Wrath crawled out from the well,on direction from Hell,to get back what it once lost.With vengeance in mind,it set out to find,a specified soul to accost.When the Hell-well beckoned,Mother__ will now reckoned,her dead soul now wholly enslaved.Embodied in a rotting husk,the corpse reeked of putrid musk,her being wholly depraved.
If on thoughts of death we are fed,Thus, a coffin, became my bed.
To sense the peace of extinguished passionHappiness in not knowing the ultimate knowledge
Petals don't ask Where to landThey just fall With grace.
i have laughedmore than daffodilsand cried more than June.