Prince

A mangled, half eaten frog,

It’s mouth and eyes open,

Ready to leap and killed.

By the bark of the tree,

In the mangy grass,

Stood the shadow,

In the pouring rain,

Shielding it’s eyes,

From the brightly shining sun.

Cymbals and tambourines,

Knocked heavily above,

As the ant-troops marched.

Dotted with water,

Bathed with light,

Specks of blood,

Shards of bone,

Splat! on the dirt.

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Red

On choppy waters,

Rain came down.

The sea gargled,

The boat broke down.

Swam to the coast,

Sandy and rocky.

The shipwreck floated,

Away with the bloated.

Deserted fort, tall and grand,

Shelter and sustenance,

Were hunted and found.

A pinch of magic,

And a feast laid out.

Warm candles and smiles,

And blankets went around.

The wind blew hard,

The sea turned red.

A boatload of folks,

Walked in with a shard.

Share, they said,

We are ravaged too.

The water was so murky,

Everything turned blue.

Breaking bread together,

The young and the old.

Watched through the window,

As the ghosts turned cold.

Odium for the Podium

Born decrepit, a tired spirit,

A shabby soul, a foul mole.

Swinging on the branches,

As the storms passed by,

Holding onto self,

And nothing more.

At the cliff, it danced,

Like a swaying shrub,

Petrified of falling,

Yet savouring the surge.

As the moon rose high,

And the wolves howled,

The derelict searched,

For a sanctum of peace.

It made a home,

Warmed it’s cold heart,

Not knowing the pastures,

That lay underneath.

Scavenging and hunting,

Foraging and gathering,

The despair in its bosom,

Withered and died.

Six feet under, 

It buried itself,

The anger, the fear,

Turned into dust.

When it rained,

The drenched grave wept,

For six feet under,

There was still pain.