Notice of absence from Tristan Robert Lange
Friends, I’m doing my best to keep up with comments. 😅 I’m still current on my own poems and first replies on others’ work, but this season has been a bit of a twister. Figured I’d drop a quick note so you don’t think I’ve vanished or gone flaky.
Read. Write. Rise. Realize. 🤘💀🖤
Friends, I’m doing my best to keep up with comments. 😅 I’m still current on my own poems and first replies on others’ work, but this season has been a bit of a twister. Figured I’d drop a quick note so you don’t think I’ve vanished or gone flaky.
Read. Write. Rise. Realize. 🤘💀🖤
Fatal is the harsh blow
That cuts deepest the wounds
From which the blood doth flow
And wherein dark death blooms
Who halts to listen well
To the shrill, distant cry?
For whom doth aged bell
Toll its haunting reply?
Ghostly app'rition stares
With vengeful malcontent.
Its horrid finger bares
Blame to its dark intent.
Haunted is the lost one
Who at death's door awaits.
Lo, the evil that's won;
It never dissipates.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: October 4th, 2017 17:47
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 42
- Users favorite of this poem: Mugsdaddy
Offline)
Comments1
Really really good I like the flow and the style excellent write.
Mugsdaddy
Thank you so much.
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