a good night kiss

how it is so that smiles are dripping down his chin
and his eyes are capturing rainbows in their delight, oh!
“Annihilation,” the world cried.

he is the abysmal beauty in the hourglass of night, he
stands tall like a crane snatching stars from the sky, oh!
“Annihilation,” the world cried.

how he traces the outline of his cracked lips and digs into
napalm skin, how his saliva coats the lengths of desires, oh!
“Annihilation,” he cried.

he falls down the cliff, and breaks open like dreams; he sings.

.

Linking it up with the prompt titled “the sisters Death and Night ~ Micro Poetry” at With Real Toads.

Retribution

begin this retribution by laying my bones,

over which you shall drive your pity,

just stroking the enamel, that which hurts,

and leaving me bound still in the lashes,

swinging from my sewn empty ears,

biding for when you will hold me free,

for the vulture beaks of ear-whisperers,

their rumors of me burst within my own,

and I piteously smile, cast a shadow,

of my curse to cut into the pelt,

of their hollow cheeks, feed their mouths,

with my shrieks that heave the mist,

burning them, hoisting their pale pain,

onto which I spit, laughing my teeth off

.

Image source

This is a 100 word poem, linked up with dVerse prompt focusing on verbs. I have placed my focus on using the strong verbs which are outlined in italics. I have cross-checked them here.

Me-You-Our Fantasy

surrender your soul, to me

because, I want to devour you,

take you within me, to

embrace your identity,

encompassing it in mine,

every bit of you becomes me,

and I become you,

and we dance together,

underneath the moon lit sky,

.

sharing glimpses of hatred,

we have palpated, for each other,

and thence, it happens,

the communion , as the grey clouds

gather, consuming the light,

and you step up the stones,

to the hallway of life,

as I smirk through your lips,

and burn every sight

.

.

.

.

.

come on, open your eyes,

(my eye lids stark open),

it was a dream,

all those sights you had seen,

there is no existence of you,

you were just a fantasy,

a character of a delusion,

it was always me, it is I,

and it will remain so, to be…

.

Image source

Reflection Haiku

reflection of self

mirror shatters into shards

a smiling image

~

a smiling image

blood stitches sealing the lips

the twinkling dark eyes

~

summer light flickers

colorful prism of river

creation of nature

~

creation of nature

river becoming the sky

no disparity

*For Carpe Diem # 253 Reflection. The first two are the dark creations. The latter two are nature-based. 

Soul-mate

it was the thirteenth time

(she was counting)

when she heard his voice,

somewhere from far away,

but still close, too close

(as if whispering in her ears)

 .

she had devoured him,

tasted his blood and drank it all,

seven pints of it and

left his flesh to rot away,

or be the subject of a vulture’s dream,

she had gotten rid of him,

(that was what she believed)

but still she could hear his voice,

 .

as it was when she slaughtered him

to bits, seventeen pieces that stood apart,

torn away from the lifeless dummy,

she had snarled as she chewed down

his three eyes that once saw beyond

and sucked his lips that once kissed,

 .

she still heard his voice as it was

when she punctured his artery

and drank his life away, as it was

when he thrashed in her feathery arms,

struggled but then relaxed,

accepting what was to come,

lusty for her to take it away,

the poison that was left of him,

 .

she still heard his voice,

as he looked within her,

he penetrated her soul,

with those dead eyes that saw

but never saw again,

 .

she still felt his voice

tingle her back, (he was there),

she felt him within her bones,

his life flowing in her vessels,

she was the body he had,

 .

she wanted him as prey and had him,

(and believed that he was hers)

but it changed when he came to rule

over her, it was his voice

beckoning her to do what he desired,

it was his eyes that had come alive,

and looked through her,

and those lips she had fed on

were there speaking back to her,

his voice that emerged from within her,

he was there, (always been there),

he had become her soul-mate

*For dVerse Poetics. I took a slightly different approach and wrote a dark poem with certain ominous numbers.

Chudail: Creature of the Dark Hours

bright and entrancing

black seductive eyes,

nefarious as night

long flowing hair,

bloodless visage of

the corpse,

smeared red

the swollen lips,

with the torso

of a hyena,

she rises at dusk

walking across

the abandoned lands

on her retral feet,

snarling her

long-pitched intonation,

the young maiden

travels through

the night in her

drab grey apparel

looking out

for the lost souls

to prey upon

and subject them

to her succulent mouth;

the chudail

of the dark hours.

Poetry prompt:- Creature creation