The Santiam Graveyard
Phantoms eerie,
burned and blackened
arms upraised in supplication
bent and broken, beckoning.
Driftwood garbed they testify
in shrouded mist, in foggy sky
Woodland graveyard, petrified
Silent screams
assault the senses
“Who says fire cleanses”
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.
