The Howler - Poem by Alice Miller
There is blood
off snow white paws,
You howl, dark, blood stained muzzle
piercing the air
the cold, cold broken air
that shatters soul and
thought and prose.
Your hackles raised your amber sockets
your fire-light eyes
dancing, grinning, lolling jaws
Lungs shattering-frozen glass.
You are a blizzard,
tearing across the
confidence in essence,
you alone- the world your
arena, your solace.
You are cold, an ice sculpture-
somehow melting, but ever slow
you howl again,
Comments about The Howler by Alice Miller
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye