Seven: Poem

A pestle grinds, silver bubbles ascend,
The liquid is concocted by translucent hands,
studied by a hooded face and bottled in glass,
given to a man with dull eyes and a still shadow.

Draped on a lounge, he contemplates the vial filled with lavender-grey.
He idles, listless and grey; procrastinating endlessly.
With gravity too strong to resist, his arm falls,
He drops the bottle, shards like crystals on the floor.
Tongue to ground, the elixir is lapped up by a mass of a woman.

Licking her lips, she grabs a roast,
Consuming it whole; wanting more,
Her marigold dress clings to her round belly.
Continuing her meal, she drinks from her glass of damson.
A man slick with sweat seizes it as a prize.

He guzzles the rubine drink and turns to his foe.
With burning coal in his eyes and a furrowed brow,
He grabs the challenger and slams him to the ground.
With a triumphant scream, he spits at the face of defeat.
Refusing to hunch in shame, the saliva creeps into the ear of the man at a loss.

Hurt inside, he stands with an icy indifference
Glory and honour are his badges,
which pin to his puffed chest.
Receiving kisses, he stands proudly, insensible to her loveliness.
Craving more, she moves on, desire like a blaze; inextinguishable.

With a restless appetite, her body moves deliciously, wanting more.
She drapes herself over a golden throne’s arm, her eyes alluring and lips scarlet.
She dips her finger into a chalice of wine, maintaining eye contact with her ruler;
and with a flicker of her tongue, she licks the juice off her finger.
The empress smiles with pleasure as she sits above.

The woman above with burnished lips and hair of curling gilded tendrils,
her skin adorned by jewels as she sits upon her throne, sipping from the goblet.
Her lover holds out gold, which is snatched at once.
It is all hers, everything in this room, even the woman.
Unseen by the others, a girl reaches for bitten gold coins.

She, with eyes of emerald, wanting.
Needing, coveting another.
She stalks what isn’t hers
and pets her reptile, a never dying beast of desire.
Spying something more precious, she trades the coins with a cloaked figure.

The figure, with hands of glass,
Collects the spittle and pours it into a grape filled barrel to be pressed.
They create a concoction with bite, spread amongst mortals to be drunk.
A burgundy beverage for intoxicating pleasure and inebriating torture,
creating delirious minds which can’t judge through the fog.
Anything could happen, with the serum of sin.


This is one of the creative pieces I wrote for my English class in my senior year this year as was the piece Pierced Heart. Although I received no ovation from those who I shared it with, I did very well grade wise, and I’m super proud of this poem as I tried my best to write something good, even though I’ve had no success in this particular form of writing.
I thought that I’d put a little note at the end explaining what the poem is about, as I’ve found not all quite understand what’s going on, hence the lack of impressed friends.
The poem is about the personifications of the Seven Deadly Sins. It follows the creation of the Serum of Sin, which is then used to create alcohol, as alcohol causes people to embody the different aspects of the Seven Deadly Sins. The elixir can be followed throughout the poem by the description of being a purple coloured liquid (eg glass of damson, the chalice of wine, etc). This elixir comes into contact with all the sins and is then collected by a mysterious divine being to pass on as alcohol.
If you have any questions, comments or advice, please comment below. Poetry is one of my weaknesses and I’m currently trying to develop it, so any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!
-Hannah xx


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