The Rocking Chair
As I sit in the chair that rocks
Perched on ceiling he will mock
Eyes aflame and brow forced down
He sits waiting, evil frown
Back and forth my chair will sway
Wide-eye watching poaching stray
He glares back with toothless grin
Sharpened fingers, filthy sin
Swiftly jolting chair of stone
Calling beast of skin and bone
Hunching carcass stalking creep
Searching seeking soul to reap
Chair that creaks on sleepless night
Watching waiting out of sight
Still he sits though I cant see
Hunting poacher watching me
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
The Rocking Chair, which
was posted on May 22, 2008 by
Bruno.
This is a collaborative poem.
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