Them wolves howl at the gates of penury and trouble, Where I am guest alone, listening to savage wind and heavy breaths mingle; blowing into the darkest of dreams and whispering doubts amongst broken words.
Them wolves, them devil dogs, bark and snarl,
Wanting meat from my bones, never ceasing to ask
My melancholy ghost, who haunts the farthest corner of the room.
In mirthless tones them wolves groan and growl,
Biting and snapping at the winter air,
Dreaming of my carcass to ravage once life -
Has rested and stopped and the doors smashed down.
Comments
peterelbee | September 20, 2010 - 04:48
Dem wolves are getting hungry wouldn't like to be around when they smash the door down.
maggyvaneijk | September 20, 2010 - 15:20
Eerie and haunting, a great poem, that's even greater to read out loud with all those beautiful sounds.