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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
Opening a new collection of poems, the reader thus discovers a new world, a new thought, a new form. Rereading the classics, a person receives a magnificent aesthetic pleasure, which doesn’t disappear with the slamming of the book, but accompanies him for a very long time like a Muse. And it isn’t at all necessary to be a poet in order for the Muse to visit you. It is enough to pick up a volume, inside of which is Poetry. Be with us on our website.

Read books online » Poetry » The Corrupted by Cheyenne Worsham (new books to read TXT) 📖

Book online «The Corrupted by Cheyenne Worsham (new books to read TXT) 📖». Author Cheyenne Worsham



I had a dream.

From within it I heard a scream.

There was little light but a beam.

Where the scene began to tear at the seam.

 

The sound of ripping flesh could be heard.

I spun around, my vision becoming blurred.

I strolled down the hall, completely allured.

My calles still remaining unanswered.

 

Walking down that path of dark,

On the ground I found a mark,

A single puddle of bright crimson there.

 

I continued to walk through the halls.

The emptiness echoing my questioning calls.

Was I alone? I thought not.

 

Entering a room,

I was suddenly consumed

By the chilling need to run.

I found a light and to my fright,

Dead corpses surrounded me.

 

Blood stained the walls around me,

The scent of metallic red surrounding,

Thickening the air with its potent stench.

 

A shriek filled the chilly air,

From my throat it erupted.

Move, flinch, and run I didn’t dare,

For fear of the corrupted.

 

Distorted and burned was their flesh.

Their empty eyes sewn shut.

They carried a sword, a knife, a blade

That they used for the final cut.

 

As they enclosed upon me,

A soft and final yelp was sounded.

No air to my lungs.

Warm wet syrup dripped from my neck.

 

In the distance,

I saw the end.

The seal of my fate.

Imprint

Text: Cheyenne Worsham
Images: Google
Editing: Microsoft Word
Publication Date: 03-20-2013

All Rights Reserved

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