Behind silvery gray animus clouds, the moon does hide.
The night does cry; its heartbeat rise and falls, like the tide.
Celestial, sleepless, unbending, cold night gathered overhead,
Veiling eerie shadows, eternal time with hideous guise, dread.
Idle and dank, surrounded by broken-down fencing and gnarl skeletal tree,
A grave “No TRESPASSING” sign forbidding entry to the beastly;
Hangs warding off the unwanted and those had doubts,
Only spiders spurred, floating sticky secure line hidden hereabouts.
Wind weaves through mangled limbs with howls, and spies embed
A gaunt, ghostly, hollow, hooded man, sickle in hand, in its stead;
Reaping of life, lifting his black haunting mound shroud a ted.
Condemned, refusing to release its ghostly dead.
Strain, howling, a full moon he stands, searchingly ahead;
Pain screams rip from his throat, bones, and soft tissue bled.
A stir in the air dares to forsake, on, as he falls to his knees, unfed.
Conned the night a moment longer, blood it did crave, then fled.
It was the next morning
And there was no warning
Waking up Mrs. Knight was all alone
Only a photo image on her phone
Where was her honey ‘I do’ sweet tee
“Out looking for donuts and morning tea
Yes that was the answer to ‘where was he?’”
But there was something else missing
Another one at this hour she enjoyed kissing
Her beloved counter part
Coyote playing the companion for start
There was a rumble
Shook and crumble
An avalanche taunting a mountainous dare
Mrs. Knight was getting scared
Opening the door the newspaper was there
Headlines read ‘Dirty Blonde Knight Was Having an Affair’
While walking home
Faithful fearless knight felt a threatening tone
Seeing the snow rattle
His senses said “Time to battle”
And when the sun started rising in the sky
Dirty blonde knight saw the coyote howling a cry
Having some hope
Sensationalism hero grabbed his magic rope
Suddenly there was a serious shake
This was not a fake
Staying strong
Knowing something was wrong
There was much at stake
Possibility memorial burial for two after an emotionally cold wake
Sway my heart in your reveling sight
Waltz your way in the dream of night
But beware of the dancing neon signs
What lures you in is the curse of plight
There’s a crafty face on devil’s door
And a mighty beast is howling a roar
There’s happy smile on clamor of yore
And a disguise waiting to settle a score
Some that glitter aren’t gemstones
Some that sparkle are spurious clones
Look closer for their impish tone
Don’t get fooled by the looks alone
When you’re thirsty looking for water
Don’t be duped by the optical illusion
As you totter in the midst of a desert
A mirage will never quench your thirst
Pleasure’s written on the bottle of gin
Drink a little and you will happily grin
But your head will spin if you dip in sin
Down the primrose path you’ll never win
There’s a crafty face on devil’s door
And a mighty beast is howling a roar
There’s happy smile on clamor of yore
And a disguise waiting to settle a score
February 5, 2020
Placed 1st: Pick a title, vol. 13, lyric poetry contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Down the primrose path
Placed 3rd: Strand select L contest by Brian Strand
It is now winter in my Canadian world,
the ground and trees draped in pure white;
and the wind is frigid cold- howling a song,
yet, I bundle myself up for an ice-kissed walk.
Into the forest crisp and crackling I stroll,
to meander a solitary walker thinking;
and bare trees groan in the north wind blowing,
soon, I notice the abandoned birds nests hanging.
Hanging in the forks of bare branches high in tall trees,
last years birds nests hang abandoned leaving a rotting mess;
of sticks, twigs, leaves, feathers and mud and whatnot,
but, as I stand there I ponder these bird nests.
Thinking this mess- is like my past memories,
an assortment of ruin, decay, of pain and love twined;
oh yes, I have woven my own nest of sorts,
and it hangs from my memory swaying back and forth.
I wish at times a great wind would blow it to pieces,
but, I would probably miss the rotting mess;
all those pieces of me entwined so delicately over time,
for the strength of this nest of mine makes me who I am.
_______________________
November 17, 2019
Poetry/Narrative/This Nest of Mine
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1199-061-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
The wind is a howling a gale,
there’s thumping and bumping outside.
There’s moans that sound very ghostly
and it shrieked like somebody cried,
so I stepped out into the darkness
where mystery I hoped would unfold,
then whack! I am flat on me back.
Someone has knocked me out cold.
My wife helped me into the house,
and one eye is swollen and black.
I am dazed and I’m feeling befuddled,
and confused from this nasty attack.
I asked her to ring up the police;
they’ll take care of this inhuman brute,
and I know that he will not get far,
once the coppers are in full pursuit.
While dazed on the sofa, one copper
stayed behind to make sure I’m secure,
and he winced at the sight of me eye,
from the bashing that I did endure.
And he promised me quite faithfully,
that his partner will make an arrest;
that the thug who waited in ambush
will soon be Her Majesty’s guest.
And we were not waiting too long,
for the back door came quickly ajar,
and the copper who was in pursuit,
stood there looking a little bazaar.
He too has a swollen black eye
but the thug is no more than a fake,
for he mentioned that I ought to know,
he stepped on the same bloody rake!”
When lattice of tears dampen gloomy nights,
Cutting through a ragged shade, a moondust black
Remember me as your protective harbor , a sanctuary
With gentle arms outstretched which understand
Those woeful cries howling a bullied refrain—
For I’ll serenade you with this assurance… never fear
Until eve’s warm pillow lays itself down;
Then remember me in this unkind world… all is well--
My whisper hums,’ Dear son… you are not alone.”
For Silent One's Contest: Nine lines to let them know
everything will be fine 7/26/2018
The forest is green, clovers grow bright,
You listen to the dead of night.
This is my home
You hear them howling, a flash of grey,
Your face turns to dismay.
This is my home.
You hear the water rushing and gushing.
This is my home.
You see a cottage on a hill,
You know it’s seen it’s fill.
This is my home.
You drive up my hill and park your car,
But not too far.
This is my home.
You enter my home and I turn around with a mug in my hand and a gun to my face,
You are such a disgrace.
This is my home.
I have to flee,
To be me,
To be free.
You stole my home,
Took every bone.
I am coming to reclaim my home and it’s every bone.
The mountain is covered in a dense falling fog
gun barrel grey clouds shading out, unto silver
changing outwards orange to soft peach
Gracing the sun setting sky warm thoughts
Runaway dream hums, within birds singing gently
almost a magic spell sings, in one background choir
Enchanting the breeze on a cold tune
blue blowing wind on a November
Evening has broken soft brushing across the brow
a dream beauty touching, deep feelings holding hands
Silver treasure lining clouds, I want
to bathe inside your crowning desires
Oh you're the angel who takes me out, from darkness
dazzling me in light of your sun, shining smiles bright
Crying around the valley howling, a wolf sad
sweet humming tunes, gentle soft, whispers to a dream
I wrote this 12/12/9/9 ending last on the 12 note
A ferocious storm battering outside
heavy winds howling a wolf
angry breaths pelting rain bullets hurl
whistling apple of these eyes
dreaming inside the howling moans
feeling your caress deeply touching
away our souls in another world kissing
mist falling down weeping inside
dreaming always with you by my side
A deep sigh of pain yearning loves voice
distant tears weeping from the heart and soul
floating with light into another world
blinded by everything one sees
queen off the rainbow's mist
through lashes bouquet colors
sensing many emotions deeply felt
crying happy crying sad crying glad
dreaming always with you by my side
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman
A Collaborative Poem - October 12, 2014
(Free Verse)
A ferocious storm battering outside
heavy winds howling a wolf
angry breaths pelting rain bullets hurl
whistling apple of these eyes
dreaming inside the howling moans
feeling your caress deeply touching
away our souls in another world kissing
mist falling down weeping inside
dreaming always with you by my side
A deep sigh of pain yearning loves voice
distant tears weeping from the heart and soul
floating with light into another world
blinded by everything one sees
queen off the rainbows mist
through lashes bouquet colors
sensing many emotions deeply felt
crying happy crying sad crying glad
dreaming always with you by my side
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman Collaborative Poem, Free Verse, October 12, 2014
It will come out of the moon
Picture of a lonely moon
Howling out at you
Oh such a thought
Walking on the mountain top
My body
how God made me
Naked that emotion
I am the lone wolf
overlooking
my world
Stars in my eyes
Call upon the moon
Within ones soul
A memory away
Brightens up
the darkest night
dark but light
in the soup of night
Total darkness
has no hold
I am the wolf
The shadow in the moon
Howling to you
in the heavens
My eyes staring at you
A universe away
You cannot take it away
Howling a soul mate
In all its arena
On a lonely mountain
Alone without you
a desire
A life time
Of if only
Only you love
If you
come to me
Let their be love
Only Human
stripping away the shielding peels and layers of a heart that reels
searching for solace in an ocean of overwhelming promises more slippery than eels
only human...
sand-paper strokes grating within
piercing the moments like shrapnel before they even begin
only human...
devoid of malice and of ill-intent
burning out rapidly in order to merely be content
only human...
thoughts swarming around the flaming mind
silencing the bellowing hounds in a world so patently unkind
only human...
fleetingly here and then into the dust to mingle
at times howling a dirge of sorrow yet sometimes whistling joys' lilting jingle
only human...
aren't we all just human
so...
may we then briefly halt and think and see
the truth that always was and always will be
that truth that bears bounties from our common tree
the truth that humanity rests within us all
in you and in me...
Winds howling outside my window,
as I look out toward the Rocky Mountains
and seeing the white fluffy clouds going
to pay them a visit. Grass is calling for me
to come to them, as they whisper
so low in my ear, telling me what
I already know, but sorry friend
you will have to wait another day,
before I can mow you.
Meantime I will just listen
to the wind howling a little longer
and dream a little while.
Written 6-2-11
When your heart grows weaker and you no longer want to fight,
And the hounds are howling, a struggle in the plight,
Remember, Hope is in the future, the outlook is bright.
When feelings of insecurity quickly begin to grow,
And your spirit is at an all time low, consider this even though,
Hope is in the future, this I do know.
Sadness surrounds me, life is so unclear.
My hands tremble and am always filled with fear, although I must adhere,
Hope is in the future, the target is near.
The army grows stronger little will to fight.
Everyone has their own wrong and right, but I know with all my might,
Hope is in the future, with faith not sight.
Summer is not eternal winter will come.
No mortal can comfort what damage has done.
Hope is in the future through Christ God's son.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.