David Whalen
Covington Kentucky

The Manse In The Moors

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Tall iron gates
That mutter of authority
Beyond which lie fields
Barren and bleak

Fence of stone topped with
Crenellations of Ravens
Keeping watch with keen eyes
Above leaf shrouded creek

The manor of grey stone
That rears all alone
And lies atop
The rise…

The windows tight shuttered
Cause one to shudder
At their semblance
To moribund eyes

The long neglected lane
Now approaches in vain
The portico thru which
No one enters

Save spectres that scream
Silently…hauntingly and seem
As fleeting as wishes
…in a dream…
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Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: dark
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