John Lawless Poet Quatern

This Vagrant Lust

Hell's music taunts his hooded lie
Condemns his fingers fretful glee
This vagrant lust that will not die
Nor feed his longing to be free

Cold tremor of long deadened strings
Hell's music taunts his hooded lie
Refutes the truths to which he clings
His voice an empty, faded sigh

Cold wind - a graveyard's soulless cry
Vibrations of death's haunting hum
Hell's music taunts his hooded lie
As through the flames bone fingers strum

Hell's flame his now forever curse
His music it would never die
Decisions based on fame and purse
Hell's music taunts his hooded lie

1/22/2020

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Carolyn Devonshire February 16, 2020 at 2:19 PM Terrifying thoughts on paradise lost, John. This is the place we all hope to avoid. Compelling write! Congrats on your top win!

Jenish Somadas February 16, 2020 at 5:44 AM This vagrant lust that will not die.. Nor feed his longing to be free.. Majestic lines.. Great win John..

Line Gauthier February 15, 2020 at 12:59 PM Bravo, John. Awesome poem. Congrats on your well earned top win. John Lawless February 15, 2020 at 3:19 PM Thanks Line, appreciate you stopping to read and comment

Joseph May February 15, 2020 at 8:22 AM Great write John, Congrats on your win John Lawless February 15, 2020 at 3:17 PM Thanks for the very interesting visual theme

Jack Horne January 22, 2020 at 2:25 PM very thought-provoking indeed John Lawless January 25, 2020 at 1:36 PM Thanks Jacka, appreciate the visit.