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Submitted by calliope on 4 January 2008 - 12:44pm.| Updated 6 March 2008 - 11:31am.
Style / Type:
freeform
The cold seeps in.
The silent asssassin.
He’s the chill that goes straight to the bone.
Winter.
That’s when the assassin strikes.
Boaring down a path.
Animals hide.Plants die.
And the rest of us flee inside.
Escaping that wintery assassin,
Who was sent to collect his bounty.
He found his loot ,
On a blistery day,
And took from me my heart.
Then he returned on his endless flight,
And took his fill again.
I have lost to this silent asssassin,
Who comes with winter’s light.
I wonder when he comes again,
If I’ll be in his sights.
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Please do not critique mechanics. The inconsistencies in style are intentional, or correcting them is not important to me.
This works
on so many levels. Calliope this is a brilliant poem. The tension and imagery are clear throughout. The personification of Winter as a silent assassin and the way you describe this work incredibly well. Very well done. I really enjoyed reading this.
Kaz
It’s impossible to smile on the outside without feeling better on the inside.
Silent Assassin
I enjoyed most all of this
Did you mean blustery you used blistery?
Also it seems towards the end,you lost to the assassin
doesn’t seem to flow with the next lines
just my thought Nice poem!
I did..
..lose to the assassin Janice.My father and my grandmother,at different times and My halfsister just lost her mother to the assassin a few days ago.So I guess he did win.
Lacy,
Where power corrupts,poetry cleanses.
The assassin has claimed people I know ...
it has an accomplish in neglect sadly…well written Lacy.
In ink,
Dabbler
An interesting take on
An interesting take on winter–which cannot depart soon enough for me!