I enjoy writing poetry but I don't do it often. I like poetry a lot but I have a large difficulty reading a lot of it, and why I usually stick to the four line chunks. This one I wrote because I really liked the imagery, but also the concept often makes me giggle.
Death’s Tea Party
Out on the terrace the table is set,
The plates are all polished,
The china is chipped,
Death is having a tea party.
The gloom of the night is like a fog,
The moonlight shines on a dead bouquet,
Erie music comes from discordant violins,
And the rattling of old bones.
Soon the bell tolls as guests arrive,
Melancholy, Despair, Misery,
Agony, Terror, Malevolence,
All clothed in their mourning attire.
Greetings are exchanged among the solemn group,
Melancholy slumps into a chair,
As Agony converses with Terror,
Death listens to Misery’s most recent tale.
Malevolence casually steps on a passing spider,
When the tea time bell rings,
Despair is coerced from his view of the jagged rocks below,
The guests seat themselves around the table.
With cobwebs festooned on the chandelier,
And the tablecloth like gauze from a mummy’s tomb,
An empty chair there still remains,
They have left a place just for you.
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