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a quite river


Along a quite river to nowhere were styx lean like broken crosses. The wind is gentle with a sent of quite decay or is that brimstone in these sinister currents, that spin! A black river between two lands, one of shadows n tombstone and bright sunny skies. The vail is thin...

I terry at the edge of this vast leviathanic river stretching, to pear into shades of deepest waters, were dark things swim... Only fractual waves driven by soft sinister currents, stured by a wind sented with night shade or is that delicate decay. I see things best left unsaid or unseen, in depths of fathomless league’s, I see white orbs teathered to white strings?

Each orb swims into view, eyeless sockets of skulls form out of the gloom, those white lines are bones bare brittle, cling to flesh, as my horror knows no bounds.  I stumble back, full of terror, a foul taste, the sinister air brings the strange tinge of brimstone to bare.

Resting to gather my wits, I hear the clack if bones and creek of ores, I squint into the endless a gray cloudy distance, far away, lightening dance! A white shape, in a flowing shadows darkest cloak, flaps in the growing sinister air!

A creek of ferry ores, drifting soundlessly to my ears on oblivions waves. There in the distance, the specter of all humanities fears. 

Something wicked this way comes… A grinding facade, a false glee. Only hollows of lifeless sockets, stare back endlessly bleak. The hood only obscures the knowing doom. The skeletal wings drap the reapers shallow form. Rags of the dead flap sinister n silent. 

I can stand and only stare, my mouth goes dry, as I can not understand why. What am I seeing, how can this be, this thing I see leagues out to sea?  A vision of death, an intagable concept made flesh, before my eyes, my mind wants to takes its leave. I stumble in disbelief. I land on my back, kicking up dead dust, digging rocks or bones into my exposed back.

A sound alien, the distance creek of the coming darkness in alien form, aboard a ferry creeps. 

The Screech of breaks. Suddenly! Like a thunderclap out of the blue...

Across the river where Styx’s lean like broken crosses, I see a city rise before my sight a city full of night. lt strobes red and blue and white. I see figures moving too and frow. EMT, Fire, Police, crowds gather like a murder of crows.

Standing, rubbernecking, wanting to watch, gawaking at this accident, a crash of trucks, cars, burning! I see my body there on the macadam bleeding as the Para’s attend me. I look into the city full of night, a broken chess board of night n white squares. Feeling the Doom Light!

I blink, tears run as a world blurs in watery imagery. I see friends n family swim out of my history. I see my life rush in a breeze of fire and ice.  All my loves ,my hates, my bitter memories and rare brightest spots, brighter than most. Flare!  Dowsed to black and gray runny feelings. I cling to what I see. As the seas of endless darkest comes to envelop me. 

I glance back at the dark figure out on the rivers eves, now pulled to shore of this river of infinity. Were styxs lean like broken crosses n fractal waves driven by soft sinister currents.  

A grinding facade, a false glee. Only the hollows of lifeless sockets, stare endlessly back, black and full of mortal doom. The bones glow softly in the darkest light under a tattered hood, as deaths rags flap in a sinister breeze. The horror that stands before me with with an out stretched hand, bones glowing softly in the doom light, reaching....

And since I was too busy to stop for death, death kindly stopped for me…

Copyright © Poet Tellaferro | Year Posted 2022

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Date: 8/10/2022 11:23:00 AM

Wow, I really enjoyed focusing on and re-reading the lines in this poem, the use of repeated lines "like broken crosses n fractal waves" is totally haunting and creates a very characteristic personality to this work. Reading this sort of work makes me feel like writing poetry somehow activates a shared inner sense that we all use to express moments and feelings that are otherwise inexpressible in other forms of communication. I really connected to this poem, so thanks and well done.

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