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Open Poetry #42
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Elegant Morbidity
| Open Poetry #42 |
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Elegant Morbidity |
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matronmedusa Member
since 2008-03-08
Posts 89Alabama, USA |
This is very different for me... I wrote it several years ago. He stands... atop the dreary mist-covered hill he sees his breath before him; bits of soul escaping his flaring nostrils Stillness is upon the forest not a nightingale to sing, and the fog seems to insulate the trickling of water over smooth, worn rocks A crackling in the bushes! …slices through heavy anticipation; a loud and lonely echo to his timid and focused ears and as his mighty chest of ebony trembles and heaves... fear seeping through beads of sweat upon his breast.... a tormented squeal escapes with another piece of his soul.... Run? Or stand ground? indecisiveness lingers only for a moment.. only a moment before he rears, reels, and runs Silence burst open by pounding hooves and snorting breaths shadows dance in the corner of his wild eye; dancing alongside him behind the blur of the trees... as he dips from left, to right… and left again to shake the terror that pursues Blinded by the haze from the warm swampy pools against the chilling air he tears through gnarling branches; moss, mud, and leaves leaping out from under him thundering, obsidian hooves cleave the quivering ground And the mighty spear upon his head gleams silver… as the specks of moonlight weave through moss-draped limbs Exhausted… and waning… the shadows have fallen back, but the presence remains thick in the air His breath burns and his legs quiver only one chance remains... He slows and appreciates the chill riding the fog as it caresses the lather dripping from his withers and stops; the silence interrupted only by his heaving lungs his predator invisible… waiting … She came head-on; claws spread wide as her jaws, wings spreading to steady her aim guided only by the rumble in her gut But he stands, his head bows to arm his deadly spear aware of her subtle motion… a twist of neck to catch her shoulder and a roar of rage escapes her He dances; nimble for his power around her grappling claws; a formidable foe for a small dragon Bleeding, but driven is she; burning but desperate is he and as her hunger slowly overrides his exhaustion, she lashes out with a serpentine tail… and knocks him to his doom Broken and breathless, he reluctantly retires; the force of her jaws too strong for the flesh of his throat A morbid satisfaction floods her veins and her stomach… as the last pieces of his soul escape his breath... ...as hungry, chatty, younglings emerge from the shadows… to the feast that their mother has earned them. |
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| © Copyright 2008 Melissa Acevedo - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
Powerful write. Ida |
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effjayel Senior Member
since 2007-09-30
Posts 1474At the Crossroads of Infinity |
Wow Melissa, This is fantastic, I just remebered why I stopped reading Stephen King & switched to Michael Connolly, thanks for scaring the doo doo out of me.... John |
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Alison 
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
Whoa! Melissa, you are making quite a fan out of me. I was captivated! Alison |
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