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Dark Poetry #2
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The Reign/ Rain Returns
| Dark Poetry #2 |
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The Reign/ Rain Returns |
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Professor Gloom Member Elite
since 2000-07-23
Posts 3082of Depression |
Part 1 The light brown Was the color of the ground In waited Not sated, for the echo of the sound, of thunder the wonder of flashes across dark sky. Circles fall, Droplets all, It’s For the dead plants they cry, Now dark brown; Rain turns to hail and now pounds. Part 2 To the clay Revealed by the ice pounding Battered down Hard harsh sound, Strikes the dry hard rebounding; Summer’s day. Hail now rain Washing over what was dust, Old canvas, Washing fast, Tugs on once metal now rust; Rush to drain, Far off thunder is sounding. Part 3 Drizzle down, Slacking to just a light mist, Torrent slack As drains back, Sounds of the rain is a hiss. Worn away The red clay Uncovers the resting of dead, Exposed chest Disturbs rest, Washing rains reveals his head, From the ground, Rising from his resting bed. Part 4 No rainbow, The drizzle ends in darkness, Clouds swarming Dark warning, Visionless night that’s moonless. Revealed death, Lacking breath, Rises from the mud and clay, In that night Evil’s blight Baptized into darkness’ play. A shadow, Undead with living to slay. Part 5 Red clay clings in the shambling, Growling sounds, Dead mindless in it’s rambling, Lost a shallow grave washed out From the ground. Finding dark comfort about, Lifeless he’ll search for living, In darkness, Light days these longest shunning, Running in his pains so real. In darkness, Must find beating life to steal To darkness. Part 6 In shadows of a dark night The storm dies, Scattering comes morning light Over the mists of the bay, The storm dies In hills at the end of day, The living awaken slow, Unaware; No warnings or way to know The pitiful poor in alleys Unaware, Prepare to be the tallies. The storm dies. Part 7 Stiff rotting fingers of mud Are searching For the warm pulsing of blood, To grapple the hold of life from While searching breaking the beat of life’s drum in silent sighs of last pain. From living, Red life force runs down the drain Leaving just shell and spirit From living He takes a soul to eat it; Still searching, Darkness comes he’ll feed again. Part 8 The dry bright summer days In hiding, Under trash in alleyways, Too long the time of the sun, In hiding, Slim shadows till day is done. Darkness comes like a creeping friend, Meander, Aimless driven for life’s end, Slowly grasping the weak one Meander Slaying till returning sun. Then hiding. Part 9 Gathering Clouds blot the sun, Storm rising, Darkness before day is done So he rises to find prey, Storm rising, Hunting in swirling winds play. Bolts jumping from cloud to cloud Dark echo, Far off thunder not yet loud Rumbling in open windows Dark echo, Capturing all the shadows. Storm rising. Part 10 Torrential downpours then fall, Memories, Found in sound of thunders call Rattling souls like window panes Memories, Drenching his bulk once again. Thoughts of his own death returns, Water reigns, Vengeance steaming inside burns, Flash floods grasp and wash away Water reigns, The storm rages into day. Memories Part 11 Washed away, Carried on waters blind rage, Comes the day. Memories Time of life on livings page, Used to be. From the mud rises slowly The old him, Mind not of his death’s lowly, But the last confusion time The old him Finally he feels his own mind. And sees his killer again; Shuffling in the dim lighting, They both see, One a fright one is fighting Emotions he can’t believe They both see, Flash backs to a summer’s eve. Frozen with fear he just stands Soul shaken, As the killer feels the hands As they tighten squeezing breath, Soul taken, Now the killed has returned DEATH. Part 12 The tide of feeling ended Flowed away, Vengeance had now been tended, The taken had now been took, Flowed away Departing without a look Backwards to the crumpled form; Now ended, Just like the night’s thunderstorm. That which held him on the earth Now ended, Is gone and now without worth; He crumples. Gloom |
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| © Copyright 2000 Aszard Drazlom - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Verve Member
since 1999-06-23
Posts 348Singapore |
WOW. WOW!!!!! This is a really powerful piece ... Simply love the imagery you have weaved. ~Verve |
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Tiersdin Member Elite
since 2000-11-17
Posts 2364east coast |
I have to agree with Verve, this really is an excellent work.. -Tier |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
I love the sound of pounding rain when on the rooftop heard And even in the gloom of night they sing to me the words that reign upon my open heart and press me to your lines to read your thoughts each time you post the darkness of your mind ... "The worst prison would be a closed heart". ...Pope John Paul II |
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Professor Gloom Member Elite
since 2000-07-23
Posts 3082of Depression |
Thank you, Verve, Glad you like the stitching of words, And the coarse fabric of the lines. Thank you, Tiersdin, I am pleased you also enjoyed. Thank you, nakdthoughts For another wonderful poetic response. Gloom |
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