Saturday, February 27, 2010

The Spirit of the Skull

The Spirit of the Skull

The skull of my ancestor
Calls to me,
Drawing me toward the crypt
Eerily.
The great iron doors open
Noisily.
I make my way to the vaults
Stealthily.

I stare at the yellowed skull
Before me
As it sits in its dim niche
Eagerly.
Its awful fleshless face grins
Evilly.
Fey orbs flare in its sockets
Savagely.

I feel a presence standing
Next to me.
A fell spirit rises up
Terribly.
Laughter echoes in the tomb
Horribly
As the dark shade drinks my blood
Greedily.

Copyright © 2008 Richard H. Fay

(Originally published in Night to Dawn, Issue 13, April 2008)


For all you adverb haters out there...

I used plenty of adverbs in this piece, and while it might have been far from my best poetic effort ever (I'm not overly fond of it), it was published (accepted for publication first time out). I even received a token payment for the work.

Of course, I'm sure some will argue that the rules for poetry are different. I've certainly heard that one before, but I don't know how much I truly agree with that idea. It can certainly be argued, and rightly so, that tastes differ from editor to editor. What works for one might not work for another. Adverbs might work for one, and not for another.

Still, I couldn't help but to pull this piece out as an example of something with plenty of adverbs actually working, actually being published, and published in a paying venue to boot!

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