Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.145.85.3
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
RAVENOUS ELDRITCH WRATH

The darkening skies in choir of wrath;
The wind brisk banging blows;
The withering of trees;
The falling twirling leaves;
The branches sudden irate tweak and split.

Giving way to the rushing threat of death
Will another candle die in it's final flicker of light?

From afar

High hasty orisons a gong in melancholic play
Voice of mournings didn't save the day
Only shrills that echoes in elevated ebb

Sullen faces white as powdered chalk
Sprung to view when moon casts its glow
Bloodshot eyes a plague ready to pierce and blow
Dark coloured lips close and open to rumble slow:

"Sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name.
sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name."

Again and again they chant-
As they go round and round
Stopping awhile to kneel 
Then raise their hands up in the air.

[their shadows sleek as serpentine hiss
casting chills in the catacombs'  wall]

On the centre...

A blindfolded lady in white hangs on logs of X
Her tied arms spread left to right
Her legs set apart but truss tight

Down to where the log stands
A black man half-naked in mask holds a whip
Slashing it side by side in quick thunder thudding trips

A quietness abounds as the chanting stops
This eerie eldritch silence eating into the night
She of the above allows rays to glisten:
"Moon of the dark, tranced faces listen"

I of the numbered, tattooed, scribed, scored
Command you to stand, heathens, my horde!

Silence is shattered by the cracking of his whip
Lacerating white linen, now in reddened seep
Cries turn to howls, the beating of this beast
Joyous dancing tongue, rasping at this feast

Faces now morose. Excitement high! Incite
Darkened desires in crave, this mooned night
Slowly he walks towards this writhing tethered
Taken, she will be forsaken. Feathered!

His hands against the X, his face leans
Asp tasting, touching drawing red
Dressage of white, now cast, her flesh
Hungered, undaunted, heathens chanting

"Sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name.
sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name."

Now taken, clouds drift amidst cobalt blue
An empty soul lies listed, under darkened hue
Spores now carried, bedded, soon they'll born
Every one a number, forever they'll adorn
Heathens, oh! chanting ones, bow, now sworn

I of the numbered, tattooed, scribed, scored
Bow, chant, blindfolded, taken, your now adored.



© James Fraser and Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Written October 17, 2014
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required