Poetry Blogs (Inferno)
Mr Reel-Fogg came home exhausted after a hard day of talking. Those green leather benches were so confoundedly uncomfortable and one could never recline in peace.
After a brief attempt to assist Mrs. Reel-Fogg to achieve her ambition of having twelve children he fell into a deep sleep.
Around one thirty in the morning there was a confounded noise outside. He sent Mrs. Reel-Fogg to investigat...
Sunday 10th November 2019 9:53 am
And then it seemed
The mist and perhaps my mind swirled round
A sickening looping helix
From that still small sphere of heat.
In the chill of a dusk we descended
Beneath a frosted sickle moon
Descended into the Stygian blackness
Of land above a still lake
From which no lunar gleam escaped
The frigid darkness was intense, solid
Consuming all my senses -
Wednesday 4th April 2018 12:01 am