Midnights Voice

Freshman - 1,035 Points (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

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Comments about this poem (The Howling by Midnights Voice )

  • Gold Star - 10,411 Points * Sunprincess * (8/25/2012 7:35:00 PM)

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

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