My head lifts, I remain still
Lest he sees and comes after,
His face a mask and a voice
Of cruel laughter
Mocking in its cinder
Burning mirth,
I cringe and hide
In this crypt of barren earth.
Oranges turn to onions,
Thirst replaced by an ocean of tears
Silently falling unheeded
Unchecked, a mountain of fears
Accumulate, growing taller,
As he approaches, his stench ripe
And high, assaulting my senses,
Immobilized, I dare not take flight.
I pray he cannot see me
I shrink and cower low
The glint of his evil apparent
In the eerie lamplight’s glow.
He splashes through the marshland
Deep from the autumn rains,
I hear him stumble, cry for help
Screams of terror his final refrain.
They’d said the swamps were haunted,
But they held no fear for me,
He was warned the night he caught me
He should immediately set me free.
My prayers had all been answered,
There’s an opening in the mist,
Tortured souls at this man’s hand,
Spirits passing to him Death’s Kiss.

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About pensitivity101
I am a retired number cruncher with a vivid imagination and wacky sense of humour which extends to short stories and poetry. I love to cook and am a bit of a dog whisperer as I get on better with them than people sometimes!
In November 2020, we lost our beloved Maggie who adopted us as a 7 week old pup in March 2005. We decided to have a photo put on canvas as we had for her predecessor Barney. We now have three pictures of our fur babies on the wall as we found a snapshot of Kizzy, my GSD when Hubby and I first met so had hers done too.
On February 24th 2022 we were blessed to find Maya, a 13 week old GSD pup who has made her own place in our hearts. You can follow our training methods, photos and her growth in my blog posts.
From 2014 to 2017 'Home' was a 41 foot narrow boat where we made strong friendships both on and off the water. We were close to nature enjoying swan and duck families for neighbours, and it was a fascinating chapter in our lives.
We now reside in a small bungalow on the Lincolnshire coast where we have forged new friendships and interests.
That is very good! I could imagine an old B & W movie based around marshlands. The final scene being a gurgling scream as his head disappeared below the surface. His outstretched arm sinking slowly until out of sight. A few bubbles come to the surface and then, all was quiet once more. He came from hell, and that is where he finally returned. THE END (followed by credits and very quiet audience!) 🙂
My kind of film too!
Nice poem
Thank you. Glad you liked it.
welcome.