The Woman In Black Poem by Dharma Gill

She can claw mark
With her fingernails

Her daily menstrual
Running blood and wild
For vampires alike

Once she made fire
With her eagle claws

A tangled and matted mop
In torn and ripped black.
The high street welcomes her
Laying out a welcoming mat

Her height was short
And her heels so tall,
Her head touched the sky.
She was so thin and lanky
But not bright at all

Being curious in smoke,
The flames burn hope
With rings of solid gold

There's not much to her,
Just a cat that's black with fur.

Keep away because she smells
Of you know what, I won't tell.
Why she stinks like the local brewer,
She not only looks like hell
But dwells like the local sewer.