I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Their trembling does not betoken fear Raw and roiling pleasure licks them dirty Myths and legends made them dread time here
By D. J. Reddall4 months ago in Poets
You are reading now Did you expect this poem To see that coming?
By D. J. Reddall5 months ago in Poets
Savor the eldritch irony you see: A primitive broom, dull as drudgery Transformed by magic secrets known to me Into a flying steed that makes me free!
I shed my humanity too quickly The moon lapped greedily at my raw wound When first I changed, my fur bloomed so thickly!
Pay close attention The present is becoming What you remember
Granted, I have quite a drinking problem But it’s eccentric, marginalized, strange; As surely as red leaves fall in autumn
The unwatched watcher Unseen eyes see everything You should be ashamed
Nothing else you make Makes me as comfortable Narrative as nest ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The monstrous darkness frightened me at first Shadowy fingers seemed to close 'round me Imagining an ancient, unslaked thirst
Surprises become part of the routine Shocks shrug and slide into the perennial Grass soft with life under a dewy sheen Turns silver, brittle--extraterrestrial
A terrible hand Its fingerprints are decay Time is a monster
How they hate questions Those who wish to be worshipped And meekly obeyed
