R. A. Sorpheum

Favorite color is scarlet. Favorite year is 1984. The pictures I own do not age, nor the books I have will burn.

Writings

Followers

Following

R. A. Sorpheum

Favorite color is scarlet. Favorite year is 1984. The pictures I own do not age, nor the books I have will burn.

Writings

Followers

Following

The Scarlet Fervor

R. A. Sorpheum

1 min read

The tapestry of night woven by many

At once was carelessly filled with near twenty

Goddesses and warlocks, divinity galore

They spiraled and spun magazines of folklore

It started as one, a star that spoke red

But soon, as a cancer, the scarlet was spread

Layering beauty a mossy black mold

The crystals of shadow now offered no gold

One after one, the magnificent struck down

Perfection beleaguered a...

Poetry

Fantasy

Urban Playground

R. A. Sorpheum

1 min read

Pretty lights

Striking brights

Bleeding out on the pavement

The urban pane

Scents of disdain

Words that rim with omens

A tender brush

That tasteful rush

I’ll just ensure her safety

Pigeon pigeon

Canary bridges

The hue is distant yet

At last she turns

And now, we yearn

Nobody tasted her fate

A little splash

An idle rash

Alone again I clamber

Tomorrow’s eve

Taxied streets

They’ll never ...

Horror

The Night Before

R. A. Sorpheum

1 min read

‘Twas’ the night before Christmas

And all thru the house

Not a creature was standing

Not even the house

Hungrier and hungrier

Everything he consumed

No apologies leaking

From this monstrous groom

The presents he lay

Were well-looking graves

And the children he scuttled

Well... they misbehaved.

And lastly his belly

Bloated, hugging with worms

His secrets were coaxed

All his conditions and te...

Pretty Words To Someone With A Prettier Face

R. A. Sorpheum

1 min read

The face I forever adore. That face evermore. Your eyes the mocha coal mines I’ll never stop exploring. Your smiles just as beguiling as a pack of butterflies. You, the light to my bulbous fragility and the heart to my anxious breath. It’s almost as it your warmth snuggled into my neck could do more damage than an arrow through my knee. “Because darling”, you will always incapacitate me. So hurry,...

Romance

A Child’s Instrument

R. A. Sorpheum

1 min read

Oh new, oh sweet

Beginners tunes that

twinkle deftly out

They chime like

Floorboards slack with

archaic scent

And yet they comfort

Beyond their cacophony

They are bluebirds

To the memory...

Poetry