A poem of tragedy and darkness. -12th January 2013.


The invite.

A hand came from the ebony canvas
with the inviting radiance and screaming wood.
It hinted to the lake of following moonlight
and whispered the words that nobody else could.
I took tainted steps towards deaths hand
with my final breath under this pallid haze.
The reeds are dancing by the tree of black;
The last sight of my very last day.




Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 896 times
Written on 2013-01-12 at 23:08

Tags Darkness 

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Stan Cooper The PoetBay support member heart!
So, John, how're you doing the day after your last day?

xxx Stan
2013-01-15



Shivers!
Oh the shimmering sheen of terror.
2013-01-13