So… I’ll just confess right here that I took a theme a little far.  We were to pick a dead poet and write in his or her style either in response and incorporate the poet’s style or to completely pick up the poet’s style and write.  Me?  Well, if you consider each stanza a separate poem, I wrote four.  Each of these in the style of Edgar Allan Poe.. specially, I wrote a poem in which take your pick… either Freddie Kruger or Chucky or Michael Meyers meets Edgar and transforms The Bells into The Kills. I think I did an okay job with this.  I’ll let you all be the judge…..

The Kills
by Michael Romani

I

Hear the sledgehammers in the kills - 
Messy kill!
What a world of terrors meant their malady reveals!
How they wrinkle, wrinkle, wrinkle
In the darkness of night!
While the autumn leaves crinkle
And the stars above seem to twinkle
With murderous delight;
Keeping crimes, crimes, crimes
In these times, times, times
In a short 'lil Runic rhyme
To the disturbed insinuation that so perfectly tells
The truth of the kills, kills, kills, kills,
Kills, Kills, Kills -
From the slicing and the dicing of all the kills

II

Hear the bloody splatter of the kills
Emboldened kills
What a world of madness their slashing fortells!
Through the steamy air of night
How the victims scream in their fright! -
 From the dripping blood stained notes
And all the carpets ruined
Wet blood runs down into moats
To the scared loved one that hears the killer gloat
Under the moon!
Oh the sounds of shrieking in the kills,
What a gush of bloody ruin voluminously swells!
How the blood wells!
Where killers dwell     
On the slashing! - how it tells
Of that rapture that impels
To the swinging and the clinging
To life in the kills, kills, kills -
Of the kills, kills, kills, kills
The thrills, the deals, the kills - 
To the flesh torn asunder in the kill!

III

Hear the proud red rum thrills
All the brazen kills!
What a tale of terror, now, in the curdling yells!
Oh the starling fear of night
How the victims scream out in sheer fright!
Too intensely horrified to speak,
The shiver and they shriek
Under the blood dripping moon,
In the shattering glass ceiling's frantic mire
In the horror's extrapolation unheard in hell's fire
Flames leaping, higher, higher, higher,
With a demonic warning so dire
To an orchard of hung cadavers
Now - now to run, or never.
From the dark side of the ghastly moon.
Oh, the kills, kills, kills!
What a web of terror they reveal
In haunting despair!   
How they hang, trashed and torn!
What a horror of opened guts are worn
As ravished lungs gasp for air!
Yet, the ear it fully knows
As bodies swing hanging
And cleavers and daggers clanging
The last heart beats ebb and flow;
Yet, the tears distinctly fell,
In the remains dangling.
Long in the wrangling
How the victims think and dwell    
On all the meaning and dealing in the anger of the kills -
Of the kills -
Of the kills, kills, kills, kills,
In the danger of hanging, dying kills!

IV

Add the tolling of these kills
Mortifying kills!
What a world of gruesome thought the killer compels!
In the silent, bloody night
We sit and watch in self induced fright
As the scenes play out in macabre, menacing tone        
For every scream that bubbles up and floats
From the catch within our throats
It is a groan.
And the people - ah, the people - 
Even the churchgoers under steeple,
Find themselves alone
Eating popcorn while extolling, adding and tolling
In that muffled hidden tone
As we watch the gory movies keep rolling
Engraving their claim on heart turned to stone - 
Horror movies but women and man - 
Fascinatingly horrified by brutes and inhuman -   
These are our favorite ghouls - 
 With the slasher adding up the tolls . -  
As the film rolls, rolls, rolls, 
Rolls
A memorial for the kills!
The proud killer's bosom swells
With pride for all of his kills!
As he chases them and they yell;
Keeping time, time, time
And the blood and guts ooze and slime
Stacking up in all of these kills . - 
All of these kills; 
It's killing time, time, time
In a sort of runic rhyme
In all the throbbing, bloody kills - 
Of the kills, kills, kills . - 
Crying mothers sob at all the kills - 
Keeping time, time, time
As the serial killer kills, kills, kills,
In a happy sense of Runic rhyme
Tolling up the numbers of his kills - 
Of the kills, kills, kills - 
To the tolling of the kills - 
of the kills, kills, kills, kills,
Compels and thrills with kills
To the moaning and groaning of the kills.

(c) October 10, 2017 Michael Romani
All Rights Reserved