The moon cast its shadowy glance
over the canopy of trees, an owl
hooted, scaring the nightmouse as
it was doing its shadow dance
seeking a nocturnal supper
The mood in the bedarkened woods
seems sinister and haunting as
slithering entities make their way
through the obscure terrain while
sibilant sounds accompany them
A blanket of misty moisture makes
the foliage bleed over everything
causing cloying countenance, and the
rotting wood scent that makes it so
ambient
Green eyes appear like neon orbs
hanging in space as a panther stares
between the tenebrous trees watching
for something to catch its fancy as the
darkening hours continue to unfold
In the manner of mythical midnights
reality happens, the big cats come out
to play entering into the forest foray
making sure some of the creatures
won't be back another day
Night vision at an intriguing level Eileen. Poetic thoughts wearing the shadowy mystery of the darkeness. Perfect. I bid you love and peace my dear friend. Jon Michael
I am relegated now to look at things a little differently even in my own back yard come night and see what the shadows prove. Excellent and mystical write, Eileen.
Love, Amor
Nocturnal activities are the challenge;
it's not so much the moonlight as what goes on
beneath it...and now that I've no night vision
I might be better off not knowing.
But I love your poem, Eileen, - chilly and beautiful.
A Collection of Voices from Around the World is more than just a poetry compilation. It is a partnership of poets from around the globe brought together by an internet poetry forum. That forum, poetrypages.com, has been the home of many a fine poet s
Carole~
GOD BLESS YOU
TONY
Love, Amor
Blessings,
Christine
George
Much peace, love and light,
Amber
seems sinister and haunting as
slithering entities make their way
Being yer old Werewolf brother, I still love to roam those bedarkened and haunting woods. And me and my mutts still love howlin up at the moon.
(((HUGS))), much love, and continued prayers~
As always, your friend in Texas, Karen Lynn. :D
it's not so much the moonlight as what goes on
beneath it...and now that I've no night vision
I might be better off not knowing.
But I love your poem, Eileen, - chilly and beautiful.
John