Treasure Island

Midnights Voice

(November 3,1950 / Selma, Alabama)

The Howling


They howl at the bitter darkness
Down the valley
Echoes on the canyon walls

Inside comes the searing quickness
So precisely
The lingering debacle

Their words cut to the quick and bleed
To the sentence
The midnight poets wail in vain

Be indwell, the knife comes to feed
The erubescent epode
The epiphany, pain

They, standing fast until first light
Interspersion
Deep within the planisphere

Their tetrasyllables of the night
In retribution are
Just the paraselene

Submitted: Monday, July 09, 2012
Edited: Monday, October 15, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Howling by Midnights Voice )

Enter the verification code :

  • * Sunprincess * (8/25/2012 7:35:00 PM)

    sounds like some bad *** poets with dangerous weapons construed from words and sentences... :) (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

Poem of the Day

poet William Wordsworth

I

I AM not One who much or oft delight
To season my fireside with personal talk.--
Of friends, who live within an easy walk,
Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight:
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]