British Literature
This is my own original poem in an alternate rhyme scheme.
This poem's inspiration came from my interest in Gothic literature. I have always found the elements of the dark and the beautiful to be perfect writing tools. They are in such contrast that they work well together in a story or as in this case, a poem. I wanted to create a scene and a character which had terrible job, yet contained unearthly beautiful. The contrast between the beautiful night, Midnight, and the dark, wispy Death paint a perfect picture of Gothic literature. It is realistic and dark, yet not creepy. I like to think of Gothic literature as having the power to evoke deep emotions through realistic scenarios and characters.
Midnight Death
By Avery Belcher
5 April 2020
I knew she loved me, but her hands; oh her hands were so cold
Cold like ice, that fearful creature to behold
Midnight death.
She watched my momma in her bed
Frightening her, she was filled with dread
Midnight death.
I would run to her, calm her down and tell her no one was there
But I knew it wasn’t just air
It was her, midnight death.
Wispy white hair
Pale blue eyes, she had a vacant stare
Midnight death.
Midnight Death hovering over
A single clover clutched in her wilted hand, a white clover
Midnight death.
Tears would fall from her long gone eyes
She cries
Midnight death.
Momma lay sick in death
She could scarcely take a breath
Oh how Midnight Death, a name filled with so much pain, yet indescribable grace
Oh Midnight Death held one of the most tragic jobs against the human race
She bears beautiful star filled nights
But then when they are gone, so is the light
She must take life when the midnight hour comes
The death drum drums
She lives in death but takes life
Ode to beautiful Midnight Death, so much strife
Wispy hair and a vacant stare
Midnight death
She takes life, tis her duty
Such a pale, deathly beauty
Midnight death
Takes it away, the breath
Oh sweet midnight death
