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Lina  Sep 2016
Atropa Belladonna
Lina Sep 2016
She was my own Atropos.
Eyes dark like belladonna's berry.
Her breath gave me life,
Her shears were slowly closing.

I waited every night for Atropa Belladonna,
But flowers only bloom by day.
I knew that she could never be
Mine only...my Deadly Nightshade.

So I let her go. By day, she is another's.
But only 'til the midnight hour...
When I am hers and she is mine.
And the night is forever ours.
Inspired by the Deadly Nightshade, one of my favorite flowers, and an almost lover.
Will Snelling Nov 2013
Seep in through the back door,
Soak in the blinding opulence,
Resist the urge to start too fast.
Pull a wire and the room is swallowed in ink.

Limbs like rags dance,
And my skin turns scarlet again.
Let his eyes become mine,
Unclouded by lingering humanity.

Screeching lights filter through the curtain,
Just slide with invisible motion,
Feel the shimmering of a red potion,
The dance judders to its end.

I'm on my own again
It all drips off in the rain,
It all drips off in the rain.

Feel the white light pierce the eyes,
Black, tangled locks of hair hang over my eye,
Used to be so elegant and delicate.
Clumps are hardened in blood.

That sound's so mellifluous,
That draining siren, at the back of the woods,
Distorted by the black trees,
Only to loom, unseeing.

It's such a blinding rush,
To feel the brambles and the sweet
Release of pure, pungent adrenaline.
Blood weeps down my leg
Like the black juice of Deadly Nightshade.
Christina Murphy Jul 2014
there is no place for me to hide,
if i were to tuck myself inside
the marrow deep within your bones,
you'd break each one to get to me.
and **** it dry, the whole supply.
you'd exhaust your every resource
in my pursuit.

i have become your madman shackled,
the prey your hungry eyes have tackled.
you are a flower ever blooming,
looming, growing towards me.
wide-eyed on the chase,
i am the most alluring poison
you did ever taste.

for me, your stomach's aching,
and hands are coarsely shaking
the demons you are waking
are taking every toll on me.
til i am gone, and you are weak
you'll seek my nectar, ever sweet.
no matter what the price will be.
belladonna it seems that you're deadly
such a beautiful name for a deadly plant
belladonna erase my pitiful existence
take my pain away
let me wither away
I cannot stand this hell any longer
take me away
belladonna
atropa
night shade
death
will edit later on
Vivekanshu Verma Apr 2020
Riddle in Rhymes,
During Corona Times
By Toxic Detective for Indian Society of Toxicology (IST)
Vomiting is nature's protective reflex against ingested toxins with my bitter alkaloids, accidental by innocent kids,
Bitter is Killer đź’€, As a thumb's #rule, in medical science; but most of life saving medications are also bitter đź‘…, instead;
Vomiting after ingesting me, protects you medically as well as legally, in court of law leads;
Prehistoric #judicial systems determined guilt or innocence in a legal #trial, for human misdeeds;
By subjecting the accused to a dangerous experience, traditionally known as “trial by #ordeal” misusing my seeds;
Whether one survived such an ordeal poison of mine,
was left to control of divine,
to be freed;
and escape or survival was taken to indicate innocence on behalf of the defendant, instead;
The roots of this custom lie in the Code of #Hammurabi and the Code of Ur-Nammu, the oldest known systems of law, reads;
Numerous West African tribes from #Calabar, depended on my toxic bean in jurisprudence, in needs;
Also renowned as ordeal poison or #lie-detector bean, for rulings in their early courts, impledes;
Tribal #Nigerians, misused toxic action of my beans to detect witches & people possessed by evil spirits, who concedes;
#Judicators, would feed numerous seeds, what they called “ordeal poison,” to the accused; if he or she was innocent, indeed;
Hypothetically, God would perform a miracle and allow the accused to live—and the court would have its ruling, proceeds;
If the reverse was true, of course, guilt would be “proven” the moment its sentence was successfully carried out, in recede;
I am a climbing leguminous plant in forests, can be poisonous to humans when chewed, as beads;
I am a large, herbaceous perennial vine, with a woody stem at the base, as natural weeds;
I produces a large, purplish flower with intricate visible veins; attracting innocent Kids;
My flowers yield a thick brown pod of a fruit, contains 2-3 kidney-shaped seeds;
it’s not until rainy season (June through September) that my fatal plant Breeds;
In monsoons, my fruits, capable to produce its best, most toxic beans; indeed;
I am named botanically by appearance of my fruit “a snooping beak-like solid appendage” physo- means “bladder,” at the end of the stigma Beaked;
My toxin is reversible cholinesterase inhibitor, which acts on the autonomic nervous system, leads;
My poison disrupts communication between the nerves and organs of victims, it needs;
In this regard, I acts similarly to nerve gas, which results in contraction of the pupils, recedes;
Profuse salivation, convulsions, seizures, spontaneous urination and defecation, exceeds
Loss of control over the respiratory system, and ultimately death by asphyxiation, as due to secretions, airway blocks & impedes;
Antidote to my poisoning is the slightly less toxic tropane alkaloid atropine, which may often succeeds;
Though myself toxic, my alkaloid proves an effective antidote for poisoning from another deadly plant, Atropa Belladonna seeds;
Guess my name, causing Vomiting, as Lie detector for your means: when an Ordeal poison, impleads;
References:
1. Pillay, VV. Comprehensive Medical Toxicology. 3rd Ed. Jaypee. 2018 p612-15
Caleb Hess Sep 2018
10 feet below the water’s surface and losing breath. A hundred pink gladiolus flowers float in the water above me. I see the sun’s rays burst through the edges of the petals to me. Grasping the sun’s rays to pull myself to the surface, I use the light as a ladder. I reach the surface and grap the pink gladiolus flowers. They turn into atropa belladonna in my cut up hands, the sun hurts me and Atropos threatens to cut my string. I retreat and go 11 feet under the water’s surface. I stay there and I lose breath, my lungs feel as if they’re going to collapse and just as I was going to close my eyes for good a single pink gladiolus gently sinks through the water past me. I watch it sink, it goes down past me and keeps sinking. I keep my eyes on it until it finally disappears into the darkness. I look up and I see hundreds of pink gladiolus flowers sinking in the water. The beautiful sight gives me hope. I grab flowers and pull myself up to the surface. I fly up out of the water and Atropos looks me in my eyes. I have one chance to change the goddess’s mind. I wrap my arms around her and she gently puts away her scissors. She knows that I’m worthy of a new fate so she sends me to a forest filled with gladiolus flowers and weeping willows. I know that I will someday see her again so I will make the most of the time that she gave me for now until we finally reunite.
END
A poem about suicide and not to end your life too early.
alaric7  Jan 2018
Caravansary.
alaric7 Jan 2018
Proper ode’s brief introductory yells or sings atropa nigrescent nihil, nomads’ nimble befools *****, hammers filthy rebauldry, bewilders attentive homonym.  Springs forth then wet naiad, nautilus axle to lynch pin, to forgive them their apparitions.  Some wanton rheumatic planetary nostalgia suckles gumption.  Myristica fragrans offers milk, carnations blood, violets desecration, rosemary hope.   Then in a window, across alley, up to high rise, from dropped white towel,

                                                       brown
                                                       naked
                                                       stirs

long after renovating **** or democracy.  Trade coronation for radiant girls, deign north wind flee worthy rage.  Nincompoops, heresiarchs, plums, avocadoes, remain stealthily authentic.  Liberty regulates caravansary, sweeps away umber, re-tenants constitutional, tups tympani, hays hero.  But deflated cocky rhymes bore juridical, where wasted boys go down to their under hill havens.

— The End —