Ekphrastic
When Horror Came to Speak
He came with tales like coiling smoke, With fingers long as funeral notes. His eyes, two bottomless pits of dread, Where lost men fall and never tread. He sat by me — not near, but in, The horror of him not on his skin — But in his breath, in every sound, That reached my soul and spun it 'round.
By Muhammad Abdullah10 months ago in Poets
My Storm Maiden
Lightning flashed as the hailstones smashed and torrents splashed against the rattling windows and doors. Startled, I screamed, dropping my favorite crystal teacup, shards of clear Czech crystal skittering across the barren wood floor of white pine, well-worn. As I kneeled to retrieve the pieces of wet glass, the storm raged on, and the window above me lit with a double flash. Suddenly, I saw her, the Maiden of Storms; I knew my love had finally returned.
By K.B. Silver 10 months ago in Poets
