Within Hellish Abyss, Sounds Serpent's Hiss, Part One

Within Hellish Abyss, Sounds Serpent's Hiss Some tales he admires, considers so great, in that clear vein, he does not hesitate. Writing as madman, pen splashing hot ink, there his mind and his poetic heart sink. Sometimes fast and furious as pen flies, born of deepest pain, as huge tears he cries Despair, verses come as if from master Poe then his joy arrives, his art starts to show. Darkness invades and flesh is cut by blades, amidst scattering of blacken tirades. Within hellish abyss, sounds serpent's hiss all set into a very Poe-like kiss. Waiting for Poe to cast another verse, raven curses, his soul sets to rehearse Lines that eat into dark, its hellish pits inspiration enfolds his deep inked fits. World seethes into darkest of evil dark, nothing matters except poetic marks. His heart raging in blackest of hard blacks he writes, before his Poe-etic trance cracks. Some tales he admires, considers so great, in that clear vein, he does not hesitate. Writing as madman, pen splashing hot ink, there his mind and his poetic heart sink. Robert J. Lindley, 9-17- 2018 Dark rhyme, ( Dedicated to Master Poe) Note: When inspired, let the pen dance. If it is dark and Poe speaks, carry that torch until it burns the poetic mind. Such is gift, a gem if one embraces the muse and says , ok let her rip..