A Scream in the Night
©10-18-2018, Olan L. Smith
It be not the cold of night that spirit hollow bones
On All Hallow Eve when saintly souls do warms the fire of heaven's toil.
Bring nigh the gory ghost of days long passed and forgotten;
Dig the rotting corpse from the ground, dried flesh on bone be fed,
Where sinew knits not bone-to-bone, rather adheres to frighten the beast
Of the living who invade death to raise the dead.
Fear the wickedness of truth told not in riddles but plainly to your face,
"Do not tread on hallowed soil, allow not your flesh to rot here,
Least you contaminate sacredness with your pitiful sins of self
Glorification." Who looks into the hallows and see glory, who yearns
For death in life and find himself saintly? Be not fooled by the ghost
Of what is! Know truth is a stem of the will, a scream in the night.
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Poesie"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
