Through bleary eyes we watch the answers tick towards it's coming - As seconds, minutes and hours Measured out by three fates With a twisted string. We had our moments - so they say - When we shone brightly. It manifests, numerous As a spiders eggs - will Hatch in thousands And swarm the threaded string With blackened bodies. Like pin pricks - one is harmless - But concentrated, conquer. Belatedly we seek to staunch the wounds With frantic hands - but failing - Erupting through our fingers and falling from the sky. Our many deaths upon us here...
Poetry
Poetry
Editorial
The Bestiary Project
Illuminated
Gods and Monsters
Cambridge Folk Museum
Classic's Museum
Ten Paces and Draw
Ideastap Competition Entries
Apollo