Ghost-Strewn Night Poem by james watkin

Ghost-Strewn Night



Moaning Wind; mocking Wind!
Its shrieking I maintain
Reports of whom, round our wits
Spirits a cursed refrain.

Witching hour, Moon-revolved!
When firmly rooted sense
Jolts from sound, and nigh breaks.
To fall into nonsense.

Thursday, December 19, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: night,wind,ghostly
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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