The Mouth of Earth
It feeds on anything that lives on the land.
The Mouth of Earth
The soil splits, the ground is raw.
A mouth appears, with teeth of stone.
It yawns, it growls, it swallows deep.
It drinks the rain, it drinks the dead.
Roots writhe like snakes, they coil and twist.
They pull you down, they drag you in.
The worms are fat, with stolen hearts.
They chew the dark, they never rest.
The deeper still, the colder grows.
The walls are damp, the air is thick.
The earth is blind, it hears no cry.
It holds its prey, it will not loose.
The stones are sharp, they cut the skin.
The breath is thin, the eyes grow weak.
The earth is vast, it hides its grave.
It feeds on bones, it feeds on dust.
And when the mouth at last is closed.
The ground looks smooth, the grass bends calm.
But underneath, the soil still hums.
It waits, it waits, for more to come.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
I'm afraid to go outside now for fear of being eaten. Good job,
I admire how you personified the earth as both predator and grave. The steady rhythm gives it a relentless, inevitable quality, much like the subject itself. A chilling and effective piece.