Werewolf keenly watching,
as dolls were branded blind,
with resurrection pending;
heartbreak was sublime.
Scorpion in scatterings,
witches with their spells,
hunted through eternity;
ear no sound could quell.
Alone the demon hunted,
through corridors of mind,
ball of hope sent spinning;
no outcome was defined.
In halls of deep imagining,
psyche trailed a thread,
beckoned soul to follow;
grief's labyrinth now left.
https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
Like the rhythm in your poem. It does bring "halls of deep imagining."
ReplyDeletenice imagery!
ReplyDeletePerfect poem that fit the words.
ReplyDeletehttps://ablueflower.wordpress.com/2015/07/12/wordle-207-penny-dreadful-edition/
A lovely, dark kind mystery setting.
ReplyDeleteIf we follow our soul...any labyrinth can be conquered..eventually and not without risk...
ReplyDeleteI love these two haunting lines:
ReplyDelete"Alone the demon hunted,
through corridors of mind,"
Wonderful imagery. Love your last stanza!
ReplyDelete