Array ( [sid] => 184218 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Murder for Sale [time] => 2017-05-30 21:27:16 [hometext] => A history of mystery.. [bodytext] => Murder sells as we know well; dead bodies and the lot.
Booksales swell that showcase hell; with graveyards in the plot.

The jacket cover promises a steamy tale uncensored;
The stately clock, at midnight stops; and so begins adventure!

A haunted house, a headstone; a wolf howls in the night;
A storm that drones, while all alone; the butler snuffs the light.

He disappears and no one hears the creaking cellar door;
An evil laugh; a silver shaft, of moonlight on the floor.

On a binge of cruel revenge, (the readers hold their breath);
A crooked figure holds the trigger, face as cold as death.

She hears a noise (and to our joy), the helpless lady fair;
In filmy flowing negligee, descends the winding stair;

Two shadows on the wall appear; a flash of light; a gun!
She gasps and grasps, in limp collapse, and down the stairs she comes!

A pool of blood, the houselights flood, the guests look down and tremble;
Shuffled all, just down the hall, and in the den assembled.

Jealousy or greed or lust, but who will solve the kill?
The gumshoe paces and retraces; someones hid the will!

The tale descends to tawdry end; The killer will be caught!
And much depends on clues that lend us secrets to the plot!

Tho well resent the hours we spent to learn the final score;
Given time, to solve a crime, we’ll get in line once more!

[comments] => 4 [counter] => 86 [topic] => 31 [informant] => softerware [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Murder for Sale


Murder for Sale
Date: Tuesday, 30th May 2017 @ 09:27:16 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: softerware
Murder sells as we know well; dead bodies and the lot.
Booksales swell that showcase hell; with graveyards in the plot.

The jacket cover promises a steamy tale uncensored;
The stately clock, at midnight stops; and so begins adventure!

A haunted house, a headstone; a wolf howls in the night;
A storm that drones, while all alone; the butler snuffs the light.

He disappears and no one hears the creaking cellar door;
An evil laugh; a silver shaft, of moonlight on the floor.

On a binge of cruel revenge, (the readers hold their breath);
A crooked figure holds the trigger, face as cold as death.

She hears a noise (and to our joy), the helpless lady fair;
In filmy flowing negligee, descends the winding stair;

Two shadows on the wall appear; a flash of light; a gun!
She gasps and grasps, in limp collapse, and down the stairs she comes!

A pool of blood, the houselights flood, the guests look down and tremble;
Shuffled all, just down the hall, and in the den assembled.

Jealousy or greed or lust, but who will solve the kill?
The gumshoe paces and retraces; someones hid the will!

The tale descends to tawdry end; The killer will be caught!
And much depends on clues that lend us secrets to the plot!

Tho well resent the hours we spent to learn the final score;
Given time, to solve a crime, we’ll get in line once more!



This poem is Copyright © softerware


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