Mortiferous Muse

A few words about context: Written by the Witchhunter who is forced to have a truce with a witch. Both attracted an ready to kill her, she toys with him and asks him to write a poem. His first one.

MORTIFEROUS MUSE

Through pouring rain and lightning ablaze,

Consecrated goal haunts the famished youngling.

Though flood of errands froze his tongue and face,

Within his soul a throng is pounding.

This ruined, ancient husk of ash,

Consigns his life to a deed.

The aim always clear and fresh,

All that's missing is the seed.

Flesh is torn with sanctimonious scowl,

Cuts his crying eyes in vain,

Hears a screeching, but not his own,

All he sees is thriving pain.

Seeking a dragon to burn him utterly,

All he finds is a cosy forest fire.

Nought is he capable of, but furtively,

Its scorching splendour secretly admire.

His own skin is alight and charred,

It is late to flee and run away,

Cruel chimera shows the entrance barred,

Cascading flesh ashes put his soul on display.

Ere long something new is conceived,

But its edge is all around,

Non-stagnation just gets him bleed,

Alleviating quietus just stays about.

Sanctum or shelter is nowhere to be found,

Hell and purge likewise repels,

To an amaranthine pilgrimage he is bound,

Just as Cartaphilus', his roam is endless.

Inhaling his own fragrant bonfire,

Salty driblets plough and burn his face,

Disabled he watches the forest fire,

And slips into endless void without a trace.

Reviews

[Dani The Unreviewed]

You get a hundred from me:) pretty good for his first poem:)

[Zoltan]

Thank you! :)
One of my first ones too...

[Dani The Unreviewed]

You are welcome:)