Malevolence
Never in all the years
Of the long dying day
Will I falter before that cruel voice
Or countenance the black despair
That rises from the deep cesspool of fear
Gorged on the churning cauldron
Of malevolence and hate,
Never in the bitter dying day
In all the torment of the soul
Twisting and turning on a restless bed
Will I countenance that hideous voice
To utter a single word,
Under the cold clear heavens.
W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly. 2019
25/12/19
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
