The Nightwalker
The Irish legend over the millennia
Tells the Nightwalkers blood mania
And his quest of the moonlit sky
Scouting the dark-hued night with mystical eyes
His only agony is the sun's crust
Would flare him down to spattering dust
Atop the London tower he hides
Amidst lightning and stormy rides
Calm as a lamb, awaiting his prey
To pounce at once on soul coming his way
Awakening the silent lazy night
For a gulp of blood before the first light
At the blink of an eye, he grabs his pawn
Swings to and fro like in a ballet lawn
To the amorous beats of the worried heart
The symmetry is simply flawless and smart
The doomed one toil so hard for his breath
No avail, as he is in the clutches of death
His sparkly fangs drill down the gushing vein
Drop by dropp he swigs it all, causing on pain
A blush of pleasure crept his pale snow skin
Reviving his ruptured muscle and exquisite teen
A cry so unholy burst through his vocal clog
Thrusts the frosty fence forged by the london fog
A mystic smile deepens his claret cheek
Beads of blood slips down the cuspid's peak
The great phantasm, the myth under praise
Dissolves a good way behind the grey haze
Before the sun lights up the frozen ground
Flies to the native soil where he is much renowned
poem by Harish Mudaliar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.