Stan Petrovich

Rookie - 204 Points (10/27/1950 / Fort Riley, KS)

Admixture In October - Poem by Stan Petrovich

The burymen sit smokng and contemplating
Their new dig. It is a musty morning fog
They rest in. Then as they dig
They hit a hard hand, with curling nails twitching crust.
It is the Beast.
The creature now stands up through the tenuous dirt
And coughs a laugh at them.
No man, I am. I am no man. Its one eye spreads,
Spouting obscenities: he is Polyblasphemus.
The arms entangle the two and rife with horror
Tears them to shreds. Blood flies across the tired moor.
It is All Hollow's Eve. The fortelling was true.
What are gravedigers to do tonight,
Except call in with a vicious cough of their own?

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

This was my annual halloween poem that I did not get a chance to post.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, December 14, 2012

Poem Edited: Friday, December 14, 2012

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