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