The Cry

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Tags:
  • Fantasy

    The Cry

    As darkness surrounds me,

    and death is near,

    there is one thing that I can hear.



    Sharp as a gun shot,

    smooth as silk.

    Aimed toward the moon,

    white as milk.



    Closer they come,

    my heart fills with fear.

    Down my cheek,

    streams a single tear.



    As they howl,

    I turn around,

    and there's a wolf.

    Standing it's ground.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    solorose’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The Moon, The Name, and Love 2
    Never Alone 1
    The Cry 1
    My Message Machine 0
    A Secret Admirer 1
    Everyone's a Critique 0
    A Taken Love 2
    The Dove 4