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| photo courtesy of Magpie Tales |
Empty of meat
Back on the street
But, oh, it was sweet
That little morsel of you
You noticed my greed
Mistook it for need
Allowed me to feed
On your fragrant, ripe fruit
Now I've had my fill
And you're feeling ill
The creeping, bleak chill
Of dissection
Your will has grown weak
And your voice has grown meek
But I'm not one to seek
For protection
I swallowed your heart
Was your gift and my art
It's all just a part
I play very well
Your spirit is dust
It might be unjust
You're only a husk
But, oh, what a beautiful shell.
submitted for Magpie Tales, 69
15 comments:
Excellent poem to go with the prompt
I guess some people can be shell dwellers too
:)
Brilliant, brilliant, and in case I didn't say it, brilliant!
This is awesome! Like a sinister nursery rhyme.
perfect rhyming and playful spirits.
love your poetry.
keep it up.
That is an interesting and kind of scary poem. Nice twist of things
Love this and the rhythm carries one through. Nicely penned.
Oh man, I've met the speaker of this poem.
Oh, ouch. What a great sadistic write.
Another clever use of metaphor.
"The creeping bleak chill
Of dissection"
Great lines in this piece. Loved it!
Fantastic rhymes I love your darker take on the prompt I think we've all met someone like the narrator in your poem
I've left a few of those shells behind here and there. It's always a painful process shedding them.
I love that last stanza.
That was a great spin on the prompt. I enjoyed the 'bounce' to it as I read. Bravo!
Excellent!
Anna :o]
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