I touch you with caresse of silk
as soft as feather down.
When you awake, why, there I am
embracing all the town.
My damp, amorphous form enwraps
your downcast, forlorn frame,
cold fingers crawling up your spine.
How I enjoy this game!
Melancholy is my face,
dismal, grey and dank.
I coat each strand upon your head
till it is wetly lank.
Your straining eyes peer through my mist
but all's a foggy veil.
If you should wish to travel far
I'll hamper wing and sail.
Deathly quiet in stealth I drift,
you shiver neath my pall
My clammy breath glides oozing by,
a water vapour wall.
My cheerless nature, bleak and chill,
makes you feel depressed.
Glumly sinister am I,
Your unwelcome, languid guest.
Comments
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This was excellent.
There was a lot of feeling in this, and the language is strong at conveying your dislike. Fog isn't always a bad thing, but I enjoyed reading about this terrible bane of your existence. This was very, very good. You did a great job with this one and it really shows that you are invested in it.
p.s. fog is more like a light, light rain. And rain's a good thing, right? But that figures for me, I live in the desert and I would love to see the fog again. I think it's beautiful. -
Excellent
Well-written poem with a touch of suspense. It drew me in quickly and compelled me to read. You used very good words phrases and imagery as well as rhyme and rhythm.
What's not to like about this?
An excellent write.
Thank you Rich
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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