The eyes dance in the lighted hour
as ears will open wide,
The laugh, a hollowed lengthy shrill
awakens all this night.
A harvest moon is meekly peeking
behind her curtained wall,
With hairs on end, slowing changing....
the beast becomes us all.
Smells of midnight pine consume
more so than tempid flowers,
So, so soon the moon will call
bestowing all her powers.
To see into the deepest night,
to run with speed devoid of fright,
To howl unto the star filled skies
and keep them scared until sunrise.
Thank you Mary, I just noticed you made a comment about my poem, sorry my response is so late. Kim thank you again :)
Very vivid Kim. It reminds me of a scary werewolf movie. Very nice. Sincerely, Mary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lycanthrope is so cool. One such transformation is well depicted here.