Poetry's Rage

Through torture and trigger thy soul doth roam, sullen groans, dark cave voices scatter round, Psyche's love cast arrows and pins abound, whilst the vespers sparrows circle the wind. Sulfurous pits insatiably burn, wild flowers dare dance a sacrificial tease. O the midnight wind holds strong a pungent scent, whist the ultimate climes sets forth her own rage. Headless be thy anger scorns, shriek horrid sounds of vultures impatience. Eyes so bold pierce through eves blackest night where poetry dies beneath wedge soaked heels. A writers rhythm hit far below the belt, when a dark pen found mind and soul. Written by: Melvina Germain Date: April 24/2014