Sexy lady
Ordered from the menu
Last night's zest
Stained my fingernail
This morning
The off smell irritated
my spliting headache
Why Aren’t The Roses Growing (A Dark Collection)
This is one of the dark poetry which I wrote as a writing exercise. Dark poetry is not my usual genre. I had fun writing it.
his neighbour always had a smile
hanging above her taut full lips
wearing yoga pants and platform shoes
she also had a cat always hungry
the feral creature preyed on his birds
with deprived and snarling face
he checked the cage everyday
OCD on its bars and lock
leaving no chance for the predator
to his dismay
he returned home to find an empty cage
with no sign of his two budgies
only
the feline was grooming uncaringly
…
he is looking out the window to the garden
wondering why his roses are’t growing
blood and bones are meant to be
excellent feed for roses
he was careful with the burial
to ensure gradual decomposition
and slow release
he cannot understand
why aren’t the roses growing
perhaps cats do indeed
have nine lives
Hell
The Living Poetry prompt – Hell
Hell is a permanent stage of rejection. Just try to imagine everything you ask for the answer is always 'No!'
Unusual (A Dark Collection)
This is one of the dark poetry which I wrote as a writing exercise. Dark poetry is not my usual genre. I had fun writing it.
a murder mystery
occured at three o’clock
nobody’s around at noon
only a mutt roaming the morgue
here laying horizontal
a koi once was coy
would it be the furry feline
who is licking its lilac coat
or the hunt alone heron
who is parading the pasture
the crime scene creates suspicion
blue-green algae blankets afloat
the floppy leaved floating lilies
consealing goldfish’s corpses
tainted water toxic pond
poisonous plant
inflicted the innocents
unusual mystery unravelled
Rust (A Dark Collection)
This is one of the dark poetry which I wrote as a writing exercise. Dark poetry is not my usual genre. I had fun writing it.
the sky is weeping
for the loss of
a loving mother
a supportive daughter
a caring friend
at the blooming age of 33
the wind is raging
against her murderer
a chameleon charmed his way
into her innocent heart
a fungi corrupted her being
eventually caused her to
lose her defence
she is lying in repose
a beauty covered in rust
like a tainted rose
The Crime Hierarchy (A Dark Collection)
This is one of the dark poetry which I wrote as a writing exercise. Dark poetry is not my usual genre. I had fun writing it.
the rambunctious head of the household
submissive yet overbearing advocate
dependents running wild
in the confine of farming life
leather face old man that hunts with a rifle
she runs over little lambs for feast
children grew up witnessing these normalities
one of the children
was convicted of second degree murder
the noise of the struggle
screaming, screeching, pleading
he had to bring them to silence
when you apply the transitive logic
it all makes sense
Magnitude of Loss
It’s sad to say goodbye my love.
It’s devastating to say goodbye my friend.
Too Much Wine
Daybreak is the fresh notes that the piano's playing Your husky murmur reminds me of last night's moon drunk on the sycamore tree My fingers filter the light combing through your soft lips speaking of sweet lies cultivated by the winemaker Morning is the regret that only the god of tomorrow knows
Apocalypticism
The unknown of
a downward journey
is frightening
if we don't know
the beginning
and the end
Enough
The Living Poetry word prompt – Explain, Remark, Carry
Waste no time to explain
Save your breath from insulting remarks
Carry on a life of your own destruction
Draw a line in the sand
Here I stand
Flicker of Thoughts 