Ghoulish Gear
Gears to grind, grey grimace?
O ghoulish, gold to get?
Turtle, beneath carapace!
He who sleeps forgets!
The champion of the city?
A far off challenger?
This may not - Well, pity.
O for thee, sound! Sad? Sure...
Soul in care of, portal?
A sword will sort it out?
Heart blood, pump! Pour, poor pill!
Ravine rill runs the rout!
Fire-god, in a stern tall forge.
What there will we see?
Abyssal the chasm gorge!
Flickering flock, thy fee!
Guns atop the atoll?
This strategy worked when?
Downward plunge into thy hole!
O dragon, doom! Death! Den...
Rack of lamb for dinner?
Thy supper's sorely got.
O vampire, vine! The winner?
It couldn't be thee, thought.
Cold thy core, O bonfire?
It never seems to get.
Heaven and Hell, murk and mire!
Pinned down, O my pet!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
