Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
Tonight is but a smattering of hooves,
A suspended dance hanging
High above the half-moon forest
Dripping with bravado and sleep.

Tonight is but a quiet lake,
Awake after the storms,
Overflowing with tears,
As the children fade into the forests.

Tonight is but a dragged axe,
A momentary fear of scythes
And hooded faces with eyes
Barely peeking above the lids.

Tonight is but a withered lamp,
Flickering in-between death, life,
Lamps that utter silent prayers,
That glower at the vast Unknown

And wake
And wake
And wake.
Sick. And Over the Garden Wall.
Jedd Ong
Written by
Jedd Ong
Please log in to view and add comments on poems