Killers

By Samuel Ludke

"Killers" by Samuel Ludke is a chilling collection of poetry that delves into the darkest recesses of the human psyche. With raw emotion and haunting imagery, Ludke invites readers to explore the complex motivations behind acts of violence and the consequences they leave in their wake. Each poem is a journey into the minds of both perpetrator and victim, revealing the complexities of guilt, remorse, and the search for redemption. From the silent scream of a victim to the whispered confessions of a killer, these verses offer a haunting glimpse into the shadows that lurk within us all. "Killers" is a powerful exploration of the human condition, confronting the uncomfortable truths that lie at the heart of our society.

• Language: English
• Publisher: American Poets Inc.
• Release date: Apr 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224755561

Samuel Ludke

Samuel Howard Ludke is an American Poet, Western Writer, and Author. His poetry deals with life, love, death, and the pursuit of the American Dream. He has written thousands of poems, almost one hundred books, and articles for many newspapers across the country. 

Book preview

Introduction

In whispers soft, or shouts that tore the air,

Her words, a tapestry, both fine and rare.

A symphony of syllables, a chorus in my head,

They painted landscapes where emotions bled.

Were they pronouncements grand, pronouncements bold?

Or secrets murmured, stories yet untold?

Did laughter echo, laced with joyful gleam?

Or did a teardrop stain a sorrow's stream?

Perhaps they held a promise, whispered low,

A future bright, where seeds of hope would grow.

Or maybe a confession, raw and bare,

A burden lifted, a weight no longer there.

They might have been a question, sharp and keen,

A challenge laid, a truth to be foreseen.

Or guidance offered, a hand reaching out,

A compass pointing when I felt in doubt.

Did anger spark, a fire in her eyes?

Did frustration simmer, cloaked in bitter sighs?

Or tenderness unfurl, a gentle, soothing touch,

A balm for wounded hearts, a healing clutch?

They could have been a song, a melody so sweet,

A rhythm to my soul, where troubles could retreat.

Or a mournful dirge, a lament soft and slow,

For dreams that shattered, where memories flow.

Perhaps a declaration, firm and strong,

A stand to be made, righting every wrong.

Or maybe just a sigh, a weary, fading breath,

A fleeting moment caught before it met its death.

No matter how they came, in whispers, shouts, or song,

They etched themselves within me, where they don't belong.

For she took them back, with a magician's sleight,

Leaving only echoes in the fading light.

Yet,