Stabs in the chest
Like something seeks release
A beast of wind
That tears and rages at your seams
Fed by pain
Inescapable by those who live
Creature wants to rule
Conquering the tattered husk of you
Not caring about loss
As long as it makes you scream
Many will fall
Some enjoying pain and suffering
Adoring the beast
As if it is how the world should be
Others hide
Cowering in their shadowy home
More will fight
Claiming victory over their beast
Gloating and crowing
Over those still trapped within the fray
The beast is eternal
To live is to give it food and love
Pain will always be
So one wonders why they try to fight
Or if there is one way
Truth is that one does what one does
Every monster is unique
Crafted from our thoughts and fears
Our heart’s curse
That we can never truly shed
Legends of Windemere 
This is a very powerful poem Charles, and not a little thought provoking. Scary too read at my end of the age barrier, as I can read it literally.
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Thanks. So far it’s been rather interesting to see what poems come out of the songs I listen to. Sorry about the scare.
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No problem … as I read I realize you were speaking metphorically 😉 Nice experiment.
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I do tend to leap on metaphors when doing poetry. If not that then I do flourishy descriptions.
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I’ve always enjoyed your poetry, you’ve got a great knack for metaphors … and of course creating a whole world, I should think descriptiveness (think I just invented that) is to be expected 😉 I was happy though that there was no heart pain outside of the metaphorical sort.
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Nope. Ticker is ticking fine. Thanks for the compliments. Means a lot coming from a poet of your skill.
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Oh … That’s a really sweet thing to say, and happy the ticker is fine!
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I agree with Bastet. Wow. It’s painful and sad though. That’s so cool that you’re inspired to write poetry when you hear a song. As usual you make me feel lazy! I hear a song and think, “Wow. That was cool.” But then I just nod and play it again or something.
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I use music whenever I write. This week has been a fun experiment for myself. I purposely put the connected songs on repeat and wrote what came to mind. I haven’t had a poetry urge for a while.
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Your poem metaphorically describes a night I had in New Orleans once. Whew so glad no one got killed
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That sounds like a story where all names have been changed to protect the innocent. Assuming there were any innocents.
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There were none. I remember the hangover alone lasted two weeks and we had a bar bill that needed a home loan to cover. Makes me sweat on the upper lip just to think about it.
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Ouch. Worst I ever had was a 3 day hangover, but I chugged water and saltines the whole time to handle it.
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Good idea. I hate revisiting a chicken dinner.
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That’s an image and sensation I wish to never repeat.
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