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Death, the Howling Wind

Death, the howling, moaning wind
The dying can't ignore--
It scratches at the window pane
And slaps the shudder door.

Then cruelly taps upon the roof
With incessant, mocking strain--
And stops, but only for a breath,
Then begins to howl again.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

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Date: 4/12/2014 2:37:00 PM
Yep, I feel it too, and I don't like it. A cool, gentle breeze is nice, but I dislike the wind. The bitter with the sweat, I guess. Hope all is well in Sara's world. Come back soon my friend. Inspiration and peace. mel :)
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Date: 4/12/2014 7:50:00 AM
Interesting work and topic chosen..At times I feel that wind upon my neck..It is getting closer and closer..Thanks for the visit..Sara
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Mel Merrill
Date: 4/12/2014 2:39:00 PM
What a dunce! I just commented myself. The above comment is obviously for you.
Date: 4/10/2014 9:00:00 PM
If you don't mind me saying something. This is one of the best poems I saw tonight but I felt the last stanza was too different from the way you were describing things in the first two stanzas. I think the first two stanzas stand very well by themselves. Anyway, I loved your metaphor for death.
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Mel Merrill
Date: 4/10/2014 11:33:00 PM
Thanks Andrea, and I don't mind at all. I really do value the feedback--and I listen. Watch how quickly that last stanza disappears. Glad you liked the first two, though, which is how it was originally written. Thanks again. Gotta go edit :) Hugs // mel