Hourglass…

“Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” -Edgar Allan Poe

Draining sands,

Emptying the hourglass;

Parasite gnawing through painstaken hearts.

Refinery of time,

Loosing its substance:

Depleting bosom, and carving a void…

 

Harrowed faces,

Finely crafed bone –

Work endowed on by one’s self-portrait.

Untenanted image,

Hollowed. Deprived.

Faces developed, not true to life.

 

(Please do not copy or reproduce this poem without permission)

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There is a new writing competition, on the theme of ‘Fear’:

The piece may follow any format, however it must consist of less than 500 words.

To enter, please send me your work using the ‘Contact’ section, or email me at:

uponthehearth@gmail.com

 

The closing date for the competition is the 10th of March.

 

Thank you for taking part!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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