*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2249055-The-Executioners-Lament
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Death · #2249055
A poem describing the routine and lamentation of an executioner.
Nature dictates living and dead,
Decides who rules and who does not.
Those who slay for gain lose their head,
Their one death mark a red scarf knot.
The executioner who takes
Their heads, a tired sigh he makes.
He guides condemned by their cloth neck,
Subdued to follow call-and-beck.
Going into the cold white hills,
Resting the trunk on a spruce stump
He beheads the brute with a thump.
From the bare neck the hot blood spills.
Executioner says, “Alas,
Rotten blood does not feed the grass!”
© Copyright 2021 Howler of the Moon (wingedwolf97 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2249055-The-Executioners-Lament