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On Crimson Stone
By Eadgar Anton Crowe
I woke, the beast in the midst of sheep
Hungry amid food for war - and saw about me
Hearts and flesh freely adorned the floor
With teeth I spake prey unto their voids
Sweet, raw flesh speared upon my joy
And in the dying hall I stood
Dining on the hearts of what and whom I could
Agony, the flavour of cracking bone
With fear, a silent orchestra, composed
This symphony of fate
Draped on crimson stones
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Copyright 2016 Christopher Allen
Published on Sunday, November 14, 2021.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Comments on "On Crimson Stone"
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On Wednesday, March 30, 2016, Tagen
(112)
wrote:
Bloody and moody. Great pen again! I love the wrothness of it.
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On Saturday, March 12, 2016, Queazenart
(200) wrote:
Oooooh how Poe of you! Feels a bit like The Conqueror Worm to me. The phrasing/imagery gives it that classic horror feel.
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