The Sacred Dead

A pointed gaze, a look askew
A hex, a curse, an ancient brew
A casting old, known by scant few
A spell anew, a spell anew

My wont to horde secrets and lies
My will now met in cold disguise
My turns do rise and hide the skies
My laugh derides, my laugh derides

Treasures to me your rise, your fall
Treasures – your cries to me are small
Treasures – your deaths culled in these halls
Treasures them all, treasures them all

Upon this room that’s now gravestone
Upon here where my power’s honed
Upon mandibles now made throne
Upon your bones, upon your bones

The site that thrives on horrors spread
The pause that gives from things once dread
The faith that rose here in its stead
The sacred dead, the sacred dead

<>==========<>==========<>

Having a bone to pick indeed. Mama Zens prompts us to let the walls speak for themselves.
real-toads-buton
With Real Toads –  If These Walls Could Talk

napo2016button1
National Poetry Month 2016 – Day 13

Today’s faithful morbidness is brought to you via the Monotetra.

The monotetra is a poetic form developed by Michael Walker.  The form must be written in tetrameter, either iambic or trochaic, approximately 8 syllables per line.  Each stanza is a quatrain (four lines), that is monorhymed. The fourth line of each stanza must be a dimeter, or 4-syllable phrase, that is repeat twice.

The stanza structure:

Line 1: 8 syllables; A1
Line 2: 8 syllables; A2
Line 3: 8 syllables; A3
Line 4: 4 syllables, repeated; A4, A4

12 thoughts on “The Sacred Dead

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