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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Number Sixdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Mr.Wednesday
    Elite Ratio:    2.67 - 5/12/5
    Words: 321
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 1043
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1783



    Description:
       This is a piece that deals with gambling debts, an odd twist with regards to the game of russian roulette in a very popular meter. One used very often by Edgar Allen Poe


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsNumber Sixdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Number Six

    You wonder why I sweat and why my brazen brow is wet?
    Ask me why I sit in trembling fright, or why Iím shaking.
    Going pale I sit still, while in my spine a feel a chill.
    A sign of my shattered will-will I witness myself breaking?
    Small hairs rise from my skin; I know that surely Iím breaking.
    Surely yes but time itís taking.

    In this dim, smoke-filled room, I myself will seal my doom.
    In the emergent crowd some will goad; others will cheer.
    Their chants now fill the air; put on display I feel bare.
    Exposed to those who stare-stare into their darkest fear.
    Fortunate are they, for they will not know this fear.
    All the while I sit here.

    One attempt to get away merely caused a slight delay.
    In a fruitless endeavor I tried to escape.
    Calm as I prayed for luck, calm till I forgot to duck.
    Driven back Iíd been struck-struck by a man-shaped ape
    The construct of a man, veiled the force of an ape,
    Unrewarding was my jape.

    Anxious, I am waiting, of the end Iím contemplating
    Still, you wonder why I worry, why my brazen brow is wet?
    Often Iíve lost my wager, this time to a grim stranger.
    Playful is the stranger-stranger still was his bet.
    To square obligation, my own blood, mine to bet
    Deadly, Russian roulette.

    Fatal as it always is, more so was this game of his.
    There were bullets for five; one lives on as fate picks.
    Six of us, one goes free, only one allowed to flee.
    First man drew empty-empty, from the mix
    My wait was the longest, the longest of the mix,
    Because Iím number six.




    Submitted on 2006-05-17 17:40:55     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I spy a hint of the Raven in the peom's form.
    It worked out well, though, The middle started to confuse me in a bore but I read on and found that it was well written.
    Loved the last line. Hitchcocky

    In honest reply Colten
    | Posted on 2006-05-17 00:00:00 | by Colten | [ Reply to This ]
      this is very choppy....it picks up and drops off but it left me thinking with some refineing it could be a really great poem....you just arent flowing i see somewhat of a rhyme scheme in some areas and then its just gone...your story is good, very good infact....hmmm

    AL
    | Posted on 2006-05-17 00:00:00 | by Amanda Lynn | [ Reply to This ]


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