Hallowed Hills Poem by Teresa Dearing
Hallowed Hills
Walk softly ‘cross these hallowed hills,
Wake not the spirits of dark chills.
As night falls ‘cross these harvest fields,
Where corn and soy, gave up their yields.
Fog now sends out her drifting hand,
To touch and chill the lowly man.
Light now a shrouded silver mist,
The moon griped in its mighty fist.
For in this land the ancient sleep,
Secrets kept the mysteries deep.
Walk softly ‘cross this hallowed keep,
Lest those spirits seek your soul to reap.
Lovely piece of poetry elegantly penned in poetic diction with lovely rhyme scheme. A beautiful poem written with conviction. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.
I see that you submitted this poem in 2007 and edited it in 2011. It needs another edit in 2015. I'm sure you meant The moon gripped in its mighty fist instead of The moon griped in its mighty fist. Congratulations on having it selected as Member Poem of the Day.
It's a nice poem...I can imagine you walking through those hallowed hills cautiously. Which place is it?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/30/2024 12:16:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Sever runs down the spine.Nice drop.