Sandra Adams Poet Rhyme

Red Marks Door

Posture riddled little girl
soul of soot and mind of curl,
standing there alone on brink
entrance, exit in a blink.

There she stands
steal in hands,
thoughts undress,
cool blades press,
time holds still,
gushes spill,
red marks door
her warm pour,
entrance, exit in a blink
no time left for her to think.



(rhyme, something i rarely write...i love my metaphors in free style and it has always been my first choice, but i like to try other forms)

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Just That Archaic Poet October 15, 2013 at 7:48 AM Loved this, especially the first stanza. Great write; kudos! :)

Robert Johnson October 31, 2012 at 12:27 PM Desperation haunts the soul when emptiness fills the hole. Tools of the trade can leave their mark. When vision's filled with sky's so dark. She has a friend deep down inside. Where love so true will never hide.