The wind howls it's lament
lanterns on cliff tops are lite
the lighthouse shines no more
as they bid the ship to rocky shores

Close to midnight end of sail
splintering of decks
the screams and cries of mariners
masts mimicking falling trees

On the beach they wait
beating clubs in their hands
these wreckers so wicked
have made good their dark plans

Running to the waters edge
berserkers most barbaric
the beleaguered sodden souls
at the mercy of wreckers tricks


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris