Monday, October 18, 2010

MIST IN THE SHADOW OF NIGHT

A howl of wind calls,
beckoning all the ghoulish apparitions
from their anguished slumber.
The stumbling lumber of death reborn.

These mystic silhouettes;
shadows of a past long forgotten,
rise like a fog that masquerades as thoughts.
Legend and folklore are dismissed as folly.

Lunar illumination; moon beams
shrouded in mystery. Their sordid history
brings a chill, as fright displaces your resolve.
Blood marks the place where death resides.
 
Your hunger burns and you crave
the nectar of a once beating heart.
But, as life departs, the pangs stab
bringing you one step closer to the soil.
 

4 comments:

  1. Didn't frighten me! (says she, whistling down the wind, and crossing everything that will cross)
    Don't forget to re-post your link on Friday's Come One Come All, so that others can find you.

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  2. Yeah, I know. I just get anxious and jump the gun on occasion. Will do Viv. Thanks.

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  3. I love everything about this; great words and especially the last two lines!

    WV: fearic!

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  4. I really like the close pairing of slumber-stumbling. Among other things.

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