Hi, dear Children's Lit, horror lore, and poetry lovers.

I've composed a poem in iambic pentmeter. I wanted it to be children's horror verses. It ended up being an English sonnet (sometimes it just can't be helped XD).

Troccas-Karte XIII, der Tod (XIX century) - Image in the Public Domain (Wikimedia Commons)

                      You know she’s there, expectant, somewhere near,
                      All clad in black, a scythe in her left hand
                      Obscure she is, starring in myths of fear
                      Her look no mortal soul could ever stand.

                      Number XIII she is and, too, unnamed
                      A skeleton among the wheats of life
                      A lethal blow of blade and wind untamed
                      Exact and hidden like a pocketknife.

                      Always around, she keeps a distant pace.
                      But when you’re scared, you feel her breathing close
                      You’d wish you’d never have to see her face,
                      But you must know she's here to kiss your nose.

                      Don't be afraid, for she's a gentle lady.
                      She haunts and scares; she plays, for she's so shady.

Thanks for reading.

Soy miembro de Hive account@talentclub.