Indian Pipe

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