His hand upon the window pane,
Raises up the cross-barred frame.
The last portal to open wide,
He is the last that dwells inside.
These glowing holes await return,
Of creatures that the world has spurned.
From window sills, into the night,
On leathered wings, they’ve taken flight.
Come the dawn, they will fly back,
To hide within their house of black.
Gorged on blood of man and child,
Bright sun will tame their darkling wild.
But, this time, they will not find
The sanctuary they left behind.
I’ve hunted him for countless years,
And laid the trap that he most fears
From the sky, into the ground,
Lightening burns, with deafening sound.
Into the hollow tree it strikes,
Where, by day, I'd hid the dynamite.
to be continued
A contest entry
- Picture Prompt Again by JeannieD Hunter.
900 points, ended May 1, 2008, 5 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think?
Comments
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More More!!! WOW. This is incredible. The rhythm and flow really added to the building of the story. You are really talented. Awesome take on the picture. Thanks for entering and good luck!
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