deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Blackest Gift
It is a night of subtlety, a song of sorrow,
wolves vent their loneliness. The ethereal one
wakens.
Curling, icy wisps of death shrouds the pale form,
a timeless dread.
The midnight hair cascades over
cold shoulders,
blood red lips shall part,
tasting the untainted vitae streaming from
pale flesh beneath.
Now a night of new awareness,
I weep solemnly.
wolves vent their loneliness. The ethereal one
wakens.
Curling, icy wisps of death shrouds the pale form,
a timeless dread.
The midnight hair cascades over
cold shoulders,
blood red lips shall part,
tasting the untainted vitae streaming from
pale flesh beneath.
Now a night of new awareness,
I weep solemnly.
Published 22nd Sep 2011
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Anonymous
14th Nov 2012 8:58am
Nicely done, this poem has a dark voice which I like, maybe the totality needs to be worked on.
If youd put it a bit more in arranged stanzas, it would look better
If youd put it a bit more in arranged stanzas, it would look better
