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Consider This And Sleep On It
Perhaps, in Hell, they will adjust your eyes:
so that you will never be able to look away
from the horror your sins have caused, day after day;
and no, never---even for a moment---out of sight,
the terrors you have brought forth night after night.
In Hell, nothing shall ever minimize
the effect of your sins (no, not Earth's silly distortions;
you shall behold your evils in their full proportions).
You shall scream forever, and eternally agonize,
because you are unable to close, or put out, your eyes.
Gasp! I mean that in a very
Gasp! I mean that in a very good way. I mean that as: "Wow! If it was horror you were going for, you delivered!"
The reader really plunges into an abyss of pure terror here. For me, what really turned the screws with savage, Dante-like eloquence was the blistering vividness of your descriptions and a voice like an avalanche of doom.
And that grand finale: it really did resound with what could be an exact definition of horror. Your blazing imagination never takes a holiday, great wordsmith!
An outstanding example of fun-sized, white-knuckle chills.
Thank you very much for that
Thank you very much for that very complimentary comment. That you find the poem to be horrific means I have succeeded. Your validation makes me feel much better about the poem.
I deeply appreciated the mention of Dante who was, as you guessed, in the back of my mind when I wrote it. His Inferno was one of the first long poems I read in my first couple of years of reading Poetry.
Your phrase fun-sized, white-knuckle chills brought the widest of grateful smiles to my face,
Starward