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Hautings
August 23, 2010
Silently and quite momentarily, he leaves his wake,
Upon the rush of midnight quake.
Upon the beating pounds of furry
And the nights forbidden tales.
Tales of haunting that leave no soul
Apathetic to the details that it entails.
Entails to the hearts resound.
With beats that creep a young mans cry,
Or the sounds of a distant lullaby.
And on top of all these daunting spiels,
I will not tell you the very last detail,
Of the man who left his life,
By one souls seething ignites.
© Alissa F., Marblehead, MA
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This article has 5 comments.
Maddi the majestic said...
on Sep. 15 2010 at 10:21 pm
WOW! I REALLY LOVE YOUR POEM. YOU USED SO MANY REALLY INTRESTING WORDS! I WRITE POETRY MYSELF BUT I COULD NEVER DO THAT GOOD.
johnshalls said...
on Sep. 15 2010 at 9:37 pm
Love the poem, your word bring thoughtful and meaningful images to mind
JMichelleD said...
on Sep. 13 2010 at 1:40 pm
Beautiful poem. I love the use of the words you chose, like spiel. Very creative.
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