A momentary faint or sick feeling–the archaic meaning of today’s Daily Prompt ‘qualm’ (16 May 2017).
H’m…why did I start like this because of the quote by Sylvia Plath–“I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.”
I’m beating the bush I know.
The reason is the following two incomplete (again I heard from those who are my ardent readers) poems that I stopped in mid because of the archaic qualm and am sharing because of the quote I stumbled on.
Leave your comment my ardent dear readers without hesitation because this is a different shade of your loving poet.
The moon shone on the corpse as she undress it.
The guy had a well built body and handsome face.
She touched the Adam’s apple and poked it with her long nail.
She do not want semen to-night; she want blood instead
Her eyes went down the waist; she had made love to corpse before
Am here to smoke not to peep at you
But, I think I shall now.
Oh, unhook your bra please quick
And stand for a little while
Let your beauty of your body be my poem–
Oh, let me have a look at…