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Image for the poem DARK WINBERIGE OF TROUSSEAU

DARK WINBERIGE OF TROUSSEAU

In the shadowed vineyard of Dark Trousseau,
Where winberige's hang heavy with a glum allure,
Each fruit ripe with blood that starts to flow,
As full moon rises, their essence pure.
 
The vines writhe as if in agony,
Their tendrils dark and twisted with despair,
Blood red grapes a sight so grim to see,
Their taste a poison that none can bear.
 
Whispering sounds that no one hears
Vultures standby to watch something die
Waiting for a human to eat its deadly tears
Pain of cries that troubles one's flesh inside
 
At full moon's peak, the grapes transform,
Into a perfect shape, a perfect taste,
A stygian essence in the sheen night warm….
Written by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES (WRITER LYRICIST ARTIST)
Published
Author's Note
For competition DARK TROUSSEAU
So it means grapes so I decided to make it grapes in a very dark manner. I am happy to enter for I love my new dark grape poem done with such elegance. There is a longer complete version I will post. Cause for competition only 15 lines or less is permitted so will post the completed one.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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