I dined with the devil

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  • Gothic

    I dined with the devil

    I dined with the devil, and he dined with me,
    He turned and said, ‘so this is how it’s gonna be
    You can look you can order, you’re free to choose
    But in return your soul you’ll lose.’

    I dined with the devil, and he dined with me,
    I turned and said, ‘so how can I be set free?’
    ‘Only if I get up and I leave first
    So go-ahead son and give it your worst.’

    I dined with the devil, and he dined with me,
    He turned and said, ‘so what’s it gonna be?’
    I looked and smiled and ordered wine and bread
    Took his hand and bowed my head.

    I dined with the devil and he dined with me
    My faith was something he didn’t foresee
    Clenching his hand I uttered my grace
    Thunder and lightening was upon his face.

    I dined with the devil and he dined with me
    I drank from the chalice of victory
    He rose up fast spitting smoke and fire
    Turned to me and called me a filthy liar

    I dined with the devil and he dined with me
    I turned and said, ‘so this is how it’s gonna be.’
    “You can eat from my table if it’s your desire’
    ‘But don’t expect me to stoke your fire’

    I dined with the devil but he got up to go,
    I turned and said, ‘ you really ought to know’.
    ‘Your soul I’ve claimed and taken with me
    ‘I'm sorry but that’s the way it’s gonna to be’.

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    Tempestlady commented on I dined with the devil

    07-30-2009

    Loved the rhythm, loved the rhyme. This poetry is simply divine. I loved the twist, no meaning was missed. You have a gift, gave my spirit a lift. Great write....

    fennesse commented on I dined with the devil

    03-20-2009

    you've got amazing flow

    magicmanzz commented on I dined with the devil

    02-03-2009

    good poem high 5

    TJF commented on I dined with the devil

    01-29-2009

    I really liked the imagery provoked by this poem. Good job. TJF

    bforibus commented on I dined with the devil

    12-28-2008

    very brillant picture here. and the flow was just perfect.

    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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