The Reaper

The Reaper

Tall he stands in Shadow’s shroud,

He knows not of his crime,

He does his job and rightly proud,

Forever keeping time.

He waits in silence and allure,

To take us up and out,

Deliverance he is for sure,

Of this, I have no doubt.

With cursed Scythe he is so keen,

And never shall he miss,

No single day is he unseen,

In giving final bliss.

Alas I say that I have met,

The Thing who is the Grim,

So many times he’s tried to get,

My Life, which now grows dim.

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Published on Sunday, April 25, 2010. Filed under: "Structured" and "Poetry"

Revised heavily by means of cutting away that which need not have been, I'm satisfied with what remains.

Comments on "The Reaper"

A former member wrote: very Seussian...iambic....the rhyme/meter overpowered the narrative for me, great tale, great images, but such a sing-song tone... I think you want "breath" instead of "breathe" and pentameter instead of pantamerter (in the note)
On Sunday, April 25, 2010, Rowan (197) wrote:

Fantastic piece Devil. You describe Death well. I love your words; they're mesmerizing. The way you word your poems seem so effortless and flow perfectly. I see you upgraded. That's great. I was hoping you would. We need more of your fantastic tales and fables of old. :)