365 Days of Creativity
day seventy eight
The Cherub's Ghoul
From lands of lost
a cherub came
he thumbed a harp
and sweetly sang
skin like cream
and wings like dove
with hands too small
for common glove
and round his neck
he wore a bag
of leather tough
for such a babe
whence tender song
was softly sung
he daintily
made bag unslung
with kindest glow
he drew the string
angelic smile
unleashed the Thing
a flash of blue
like fire's scorch
entrapt in dark
the only torch
these flames of black
and indigo
from under hood
of ink, did glow
these eyes which saw
more than I said
and mouth which ate
more than I fed
a gaping maw
like flesh torn wide
he took my fear
to be his bride
he stood, a pit
of lustless power
at once both hole
and tallest tower
not that the wraith
exuded cold
but all source of heat
he did enfold
with vocal rattle
stolen from
a thousand men
sisters and sons
he spoke two words
that "Fear's unfair"
while Cherub laughed
and lounged on air
they both drank deep
my skin and soul
but 'fore I died
they let me go
and cut from thought
this awful thread.
But ho! What man
waits on my bed?
No comments:
Post a Comment