Dammit, Jim, I'm a fiction writer, not a poet!

I will be the first to admit that I am not a poet. I dabble on occasion but my rhyming scheme leaves alot to be desired. That's one of many reasons why I write short stories- no iambic pentameter, haiku, etc. Plus it's hard to make your characters slaughter the undead in under 50 lines :)

There was a Webook challenge awhile back for writers to choose at least one of the provided 50 topics and write a poem based on that. I chose the theme 'Red' and managed not to muck it up too badly.
.........
Mottled tones of broken grey
filled my line of sight
I watched the world with deadened eyes
pass in the moonlit night

Earthly shadows whispered
though I heard nothing that was said
My inner voices chanted
How can you feel so dead?

And in my darkest hour
where ghosts and sadness grew
A woman came upon me
from amongst the passing few

Silently she came to me
and reached a slender hand
I started from my waking slumber
and obeyed her sweet command

Talk to me, she spoke
her tone a heaven’s dream
Tell me all your secrets
her eyes a glowing beam

Suddenly the world lit up
the colors not so bleak
My voice, long gone, released itself
what is it that you seek?

I want to see the winds of change
and turn fate’s twisting loom
I want to chase away your tears
and pull you from your deepest tomb

I saw the girl in the fading sky
and fought a sweet caress
My eyes were open, but looked anew
at the color of her dress

Seeing red so beautifully
I had lost its vibrant hue
I began to see more colors now
even brown and green and blue

I fell to my knees, shaking
my heart is desperate straits
Are you an angel, m’lady
come to take to pearly gates?

Her laughter came out musically
as she pulled me from the streets
I am no angel, lady
but a devil between the sheets

Astounded at her humor
my emotions flooded out
I clasped my hands in silent prayer
my thanks in gods devout

Into light she pulled me
her hands so strong and true
Quietly she whispered
my heart was meant for you

And in her eyes I saw the truth
of words we never spoke
A love so deep and endless
even strangers cannot cloak

I took the red and filled my hands
her dress clasped in my grip
My mouth drank hers and she held me
her hand upon my hip

I felt the scarlet hue of passion
the vermillion heat a treasure
I taste the ruby of her lips
the flame of crimson pleasure

I love red now
it calls to me, a savior from my ache
An angelic woman choosing me
am I still awake?

If a dream this is, let me go
stay in dark abyss
If she is real, I stay up
basking in her kiss

Destiny is upon us
our souls in thankful hands
We hold each other softly
and do as love demands.
........

Come on, poetry publishers, you know that you want to flock to me after reading that masterpiece :)
(Btw, I know that it's not an awful piece- it just needs polishing.)

Props to the poets who can make their work flow so beautifully!