Mark R Slaughter


Sinner's Visit from Death


Whence the reek, the sombre clouds?
Those of billows gargantuan;
Of storms immense, blushing black,
Wishing sought of me to assess?

And have I passed? I have?
Hence I hear a knock on oak;
Unwelcomed, dullened cloak
Flowing dourly - it was a bitter breeze.

‘Have you mulled my sins? ' I ask.
‘Have you seen my impotence -
Though observe destruction at mine hands?
Forgive me, I am but Man.'

‘And are not sinners forgiven? ' I excuse,
‘Hence forgiveness avoids me of Hell?
Must my Demons of Sin revisit eternally
And reflect back on me to suffer well

The synergy of vengeance and wrath?
Are you not now pitying of my terror?
See my withering, regretful flesh -
Feel you not my tardy repentance? '

But Death just focused his stare,
That which pierced my pulseless heart,
For I was empty of remorse in all my years.
He knew that - and led me away.



Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009










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Death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death

Submitted: Thursday, February 05, 2009
Edited: Monday, April 16, 2012

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  • Rookie Greenwolfe 1962 (2/8/2009 12:27:00 PM)

    The key to writing this is to set the mood and the atmosphere. That is what
    I tried to do in my poem WHEN I STOOD BY THE SEA. I think you have done
    a masterful job here. This is a very good writing. One I very much enjoyed.
    All readers will enjoy this. That is all that matters. Wonderful!

    GW62 (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 0 Points G. Murdock (2/5/2009 3:43:00 AM)

    This is a great piece of gothic lore. O bitter death will thou escape my withered form? (Report) Reply

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