Blood soaked oranges scented the room with rot. Glass shattered and red wine gushed over pristine white marble. Crystal glinted red.
Soft tufts of intrigue beneath the sweet white cotton snagged a breath of passion and wetted eyes wide with desire.
Frosty bursts shattered the silent scene as snow billowed into the thick pools of crimson. From his grisly tastes for gore.
Soft flesh tore smoothly from the rusty blade as it slashed and shrieked with unrestrained need.
The room breathed silently, shimmering crimson and distress.
**
Since this poem is getting hits like crazy, for those who can stand the horror, feel free to check out my short story called Night After Night that inspired the nastiness.
A people’s heart can be found in their poetic words. In history men and women have stood firmly upon their soapboxes and street corners, rallying the deepest beliefs of people to rise up and be heard. The poetrypages.com has offered that voice a new
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
This collection of poetry addresses the nature of time, reflections on the natural world, the difficulty of loss,
contemporary social issues and gratitude for life.
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Your poem makes me feel pared to the bone. For certain, it doesn't lack in imagery. Gruesome thoughts.