This is my first attempt at The Sleep Is For The Weak Writing Workshop after the advice of a my friend Nickie from Typecast I decided to submit a recently written poem. As ever I am trying to develop my writing skills, so any feed back with be most appreciated.
Blood.
Blood, that of my own or my enemies
It doesn't matter, it runs as one
Clothed in thunderous rage, warm slithers trickle
Caressing my body, drenching my soul
It whispers softly to me, feeding my aggression
Cleansing, soothing, the pain runs with it
Thick and black against the ebbing darkness of my mind
The dull metallic scent sears my senses
Wounding, piercing, bitter as bile
The blistering steel hisses, shrieking a perverse lullaby
It sings sweetly to me, drudging fetid flesh from broken bone
I can no longer hear their demented voices, drowning in boiling crimson seas
Adrenalin throbs, quickening
Tightening to blessed bursting relief
Death rises on hollow wings to greet me
Drawing the dark edges closer, following my fevered footsteps
With salivating jaws it calls gently to me, I no longer hear a sound
Save the guttered gurgle of those lain before me
Wow powerful stuff!
ReplyDeleteI love the alteration in the lines, all those same sounds that roll of your tongue.
I would love to know that thoughts behind your poem, what inspired it. It has a wonderful dark and intoxicating feel. All the hard constenant sounds give it a beat like blood flow, I really like that.
Well done! Would love to read more of your work.
Thanks so much for joining in the workshop.