Indian Pipe
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INDIAN PIPE
(The Corpse Plant)
in the shadows
in the shadows
teardrop eyes
Like bagpipes they play, somber tunes of fear,
as doves do weep, as flamingoes bow down.
A ghost plant dirge, doth tremble dusty clouds.
The bells, they ring, intensely sing, slow-deep.
in the shadows
in the shadows
teardrop eyes
Like wax, their silhouettes a frozen mask.
A countenance, thus drained of chlorophyll.
The vampiric cold parasite craves night -
A leech, among the beech, with lovers scars.
in the shadows
in the shadows
teardrop eyes
A cold and clammy touch, doth turn a corpse
an inky black. A translucent pale ghost -
don’t touch, nor handle plant, nor creep too near
its eerie soil, nor step, upon its grave.
in the shadows
in the shadows
teardrop eyes
Original date : 5/11/2017
YOUR CHOICE FLOWER VERSE,any form ,any theme Poetry Contest
Brian Strand: Sponsor 6/23/2019
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2017
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