Richard Cronin
Richard Cronin Poems
A grand old mansion on a hill
The stately manor stands there still
In the darkness of the night
...
In the hot desert wild
On the high chaparral
The desert blooms a sweet flower
...
On the shores of night
At the edge of light
The poet weeps for his lost love
The old marble statues stand white
...
The poet dealt with the devil
In exchange for his very soul
The devil would give the poet
All the poems his pad could hold
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Spending time alone, afraid
Pondering decisions made
The reaper walks and the sinners, moan
Collecting dues, before the dawn
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The Best Poem Of Richard Cronin
House Of Sin
A grand old mansion on a hill
The stately manor stands there still
In the darkness of the night
Throughout the window came a light
On the veranda I did creep
To glowing window for a peek
To filthy pane I pressed my face
To peer beyond the curtain lace
Around the great room my eyes did roam
The king of sinners on his throne
All his minions and demons there
Dancing at this banquet fair
Oh the horror there I spied
In this place where goodness died
In my fright I turned to leave
But felt a hand upon my sleeve
Oh the touch was dead and cold
I shuddered to my very soul
The breath of death was on my face
I could not leave this evil place
My lord; he said invites you in
Ah…welcome to the house of sin
Enter through the one way door
For you may leave here…. Nevermore!
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4/19/2024 6:59:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
