Poetry Blogs (end rhyme)
The Silent Scream
Hall clock, tick tock
front door, knock knock
turn of handle, unlock.
She lies in bed, unawares
footsteps, creaking stairs
back of neck raised hairs.
She sensed a presence next to bed
fear, panic, a sense of dread
afraid to breathe or raise her head.
She feels a hand around her waist
and smells his breath against her face
it's stale, unclean and alcohol based.
He's here to harm...
Saturday 15th June 2019 12:49 am
Recent Comments
Don Matthews on musical chamber!!!!! (14 minutes ago)
Greg Freeman on Love in the time of coronavirus (17 minutes ago)
Don Matthews on WE DON'T NEED NO VENTILATORS (Brexit Before Breathing) (20 minutes ago)
Don Matthews on meeting an old girlfriend (26 minutes ago)
poemagraphic on meeting an old girlfriend (37 minutes ago)
John Coopey on WE DON'T NEED NO VENTILATORS (Brexit Before Breathing) (1 hour ago)
poemagraphic on A Heroes Hero (3 hours ago)
poemagraphic on musical chamber!!!!! (3 hours ago)
poemagraphic on Mosaic (3 hours ago)
poemagraphic on Another Victim (3 hours ago)