Rich Pickings

Some women simply suck blood.

Rich Pickings

Those bloody raptors

mantled over my corpse,

stripping flesh

as they feed

in feathered frenzy,

until all that remains

are my sun bleached bones;

I am but carrion.

I am but the cold stone trough

from which the prize pigs

will have their swill,

as they gorge

on chunks of me

and leave no trace

of my human form.

I am but bait

for the rats who

occupy life's sewers,

they gnaw through

every sinew,

they voraciously consume

every morsel of my soul.

And so

I am no more.

 

16/07/17

Author's Note

Picture taken at the Falconry Centre Hagley

Reviews

[Lorry]

Reading this, you have managed to put into words that inward scream of being consumed by others, when all we want and hope for is enough time to ourselves to have a thought or two without interruption or interference...which in my experience, is just wishful thinking.
Very nicely captured akin to the death of a thousand cuts.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Amazing falcon photo-majestic but deadly raptor. Dark, stark poem describing literal and figurative stripping of humanity....disturbing imagery..shocking but true to life. Well-penned!

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Thank you Annette. The picture was taken during a visit to the Falconry Centre and a wonderful demonstration of some magnificent creatures.

[Lydia Shutter]

This one gave me chills, John! Is there nothing left? No, that can not be for the words and the paper are still yours and you wield them with great talent. Lydi**

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Ah!.....Thank you Lydi. Merely history playing out in echoes and a touch of 'poetic licence'.

[AYVID N]

When the meat is ready and vulnerable, the rats only get greedier! One can't get away from the takers. They pursue relentlessly and find you. I think being consumed could even be our own subconcious choice. As always, a great poem John.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Indeed often we are the architects of our own doom. Many thank yous Divya.

[AYVID N]

You are so welcome John!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

geez, yes...have had enough of these feelings before...

the nothing left is still alive though---and poetry is the Tyrannosaurus that rises from the coagulation.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Indeed Jacob, poetry is our Warfarin. Many thanks.