Words
Original poems written by Ormulyce using specified words in the title.
tango with the Grim Reaper
Life.
What is
this journey?
The early years
rock chimerical
outlooks that quickly die.
A roaming between scattered
joys and indelible sorrows.
Then the tango with the Grim Reaper,
hoping to be freed of the chains of life
and enter heaven or kiss nothingness.
But you see in horror you are a
living spirit put back into
this infernal cycle where
the almighty gambler
of the universe
will decide how
unlucky
you will
be!
a crown of ebony and bone
His arm never weakened when holding his sword.
His courage never vacillated on the battlefields.
The valorous king was victorious.
His soldiers were covered, as promised,
with honor and gold.
History will tell how strongly he deserved
his crown of ebony and bones.
His hand never failed when killing with his sword.
His ferocity never waned on the captives.
The vicious king was ambitious.
His soldiers were driven by promised
plunders and female slaves.
History won't tell how harshly he earned
his crown, with agony and moans.
twin flames in the rain
Afar an old steam engine whistles
Digging its way through the smog
Its creaking rusty cogs and
Its dancing headlights like
Twin flames in the rain
black chilling specter
Amidst the chilling black specters,
The vampires and other dissectors
A kind is the scariest.
I hardly dare mention
The ghosts of tax collectors.
neon drops on midnight shores
The glimmer of the moon pours
Purple neon drops on midnight shores
Afar a shrill seagull soars
He will never see again the ones he adores
She has closed all the doors
The gleam of the moon ignores
The horizon fading the seashores
Afar a shrill seagull soars
He no longer has the vigor to move the oars
Time to embrace Death's doors
faded stars and moonless nights
The sky, with faded stars and moonless nights,
Torments my mind. The almost silent waves
Reflect my gloomy soul's pointless fights.
The sea is dull and sick of sailors’ graves.
From time to time, under a whining wind,
A rusty and distant weathercock weeps.
Does life have any meaning, a fate to find?
The sea is dark where the Grim Reaper sleeps.
Blind! Why discouragement? Owls, in the night,
always sing. To see a seagull of light,
darkness becomes a vital acolyte.
Clean the poison to forget the snakebite.
