'Maybe this world is another planet's hell.'
I can hear that dead dog howling,
And it's sounding mighty clear.
Seems to me a midnight sound
The young ought not to hear.
And the moon is wide and full and bright
And leaving shadows dark and long,
And in my gut I feel tonight
Something's itching to go wrong.
The barn owl, he's been so silent,
He hasn't made a single sound.
And the air is still and cold and dank
Like a corpse that's never found.
The crickets have all gone silent,
The nightingale to sleep.
The sprites and spirits of the night
Have hauntings they must keep.
And I can hear that dead dog howling,
Just as plain as plain can be,
As if he were but howling out his menace
Just for me.
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
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Comments about this poem (Silent Night by Richard D. Remler )
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