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Open Poetry #49
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Redstart
Senior Member
since 2014-05-16
Posts 535


0 posted 2014-10-06 06:42 PM



So softly slipped the noose, it crept
around his neck like gossamer.
And had he known, how he'd have wept,
for it was death, I can concur.

No culling fall beneath the scythe;
no reaper grim to sanitise.
In longer-lasting death he'll writhe,
tormented soul of her cold eyes.

No final, gallows-jolt to break
the neck of love, a furlong late.
And when a mile's too much to take,
he'll live that love might turn to hate.

© Copyright 2014 Redstart - All Rights Reserved
JerryPat2
Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975
South Louisiana
1 posted 2014-10-06 08:12 PM


Interesting little gem you have here, Red. I know all about those "cold eyes." Quite a little twist at the end. I like twists at the end. I liked this.

If they give you ruled paper write sideways.

Marchmadness
Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271
So. El Monte, California
2 posted 2014-10-12 05:04 AM


I am becoming a fan of your poetry, Redstart.
                              Ida

Lori Grosser Rhoden
Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202
Fair to middlin' of nowhere
3 posted 2014-10-12 06:41 AM


Another fine piece of work with a twist. Would love to read more of your work too Redstart.

Lori

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