Descent

DESCENT Way down in catacombs, sleeping stairs descenta depth that silhouettes ice cold hell. I’m chilled, yet curious. why tour where ghosts hang out? a sign suggests that we should leave, icicles quip “beware” of picked clean bones. We do enter a mass grave dead womb and silent feet doth creep along this crypt. So many skulls and bones, our eyes are glued. Should i reach out should i touch stone i don’t 6/8/2017

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Sara Ella

Date: 6/9/2017 4:48:00 AM

Ooooo! The catacombs! This is creepy dark writing that brings shivers - a really good, scary poem! :)

Kim Rodrigues
Date: 6/9/2017 8:39:00 AM

Thank you, Sara!

Daniel Turner

Date: 6/8/2017 12:51:00 PM

I like this one, Mrs Kim. I have always been intrigues by the catacombs.

Kim Rodrigues
Date: 6/8/2017 1:08:00 PM

Thank you, Daniel! I visited the one in Paris. Was something! The workers got creative with the bones.

Chris Green

Date: 6/8/2017 11:36:00 AM

I find it amazing that when I read your poetry, regardless of theme or form, I find my mind traveling in whatever world or scene you have created. This was no different except this journey was creepy. You are very talented my friend.

Kim Rodrigues
Date: 6/8/2017 11:38:00 AM

Thanks so very much, Chris!