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Question:"nightmare"

I made love to Lilith fair,
and danced a zombie's trance.
My fingers ran through Satans hair,
and broke his dead advance.

I'm still alive yet somehow dead,
awake yet sound asleep.
I scream for help, I feel dread,
begging, I whimper and weep.

The hotter the fire, the greater the lust,
I break away thinking I'm free.
But slowly now I turn to dust,
the deal on which we agreed.

The quiet shattered by my scream,
I gasp and clutch for air.
This is not some child's dream,
Satan's come to claim what's his.

He laughs at me as if a child,
my bargaining brings his wrath.
I've been locked away and filed,
never to be seen again.


Best Answer - Chosen by Asker: "nightmare"

I made love to Lilith fair,
and danced a zombie's trance.
My fingers ran through Satans hair,
and broke his dead advance.

I'm still alive yet somehow dead,
awake yet sound asleep.
I scream for help, I feel dread,
begging, I whimper and weep.

The hotter the fire, the greater the lust,
I break away thinking I'm free.
But slowly now I turn to dust,
the deal on which we agreed.

The quiet shattered by my scream,
I gasp and clutch for air.
This is not some child's dream,
Satan's come to claim what's his.

He laughs at me as if a child,
my bargaining brings his wrath.
I've been locked away and filed,
never to be seen again.

For some odd reason this appeals to me tonight! I don't think you have a block at all, or if you do, you can sure pull great imagery and shivers out of that block! Thanks for this one, it is good.

Welcome. Thanks for choosing my answer. Report It


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  • Grannyjill's Avatar by Grannyji...
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  • I'm not going to suggest anything.

    I enjoyed reading this, I love the opening lines - I'm sure you do too. I may be wrong, but this seems to be one of those poems which come almost entirely formed from goodness knows where.
    Occasionally, late at night when I used to write poetry the beginnings of a poem would form in my head, I'd begin to type it out...not knowing where it was going. Then as if directly from my subconscious there would come a poem. Not well formed or perfect but exciting, nevertheless. And I would think 'Where the heck did that come from'
    Is this how you wrote this?
    It has vitality and also makes you think.
    Thanks