Poes Pen

It is not bound in blood and tears
But the ink is lasting dreams and fears
Resting now it sits sealed in glass
It will never meet its critical mass

Stones of time wither and crumble
Before its presence even gods are humble
Resting it lays on ornamented old wood
Within a soul, misunderstood

Filled with dreams and wicked words
A tongue as sharp as thousand swords
Never will it meet paper and pain again
There it lays, mister Poes descending pen




Poetry by Cr4Ky
Read 388 times
Written on 2012-02-02 at 11:29

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Blilith The PoetBay support member heart!
Dear Cr4Ky,

I love Poe, Lovecraft and all things Gothic.
Really great Iambic
Another great write, lovely, I like macbre
Superb use of words
Thank you for giving this
Applause,

Be blessed
Love
Blilith
2012-02-06


Melissa Ormond
This painted a great picture in my mind! Keep up the good work, keep writing and smiling:)
2012-02-02