Unquiet Spirits

The ghosts of monks
abroad each time
earth eclipses moon.

With book in hand
he recites a dead language,
spectres lurk close by.

An impossible howl
a silently swooping owl,
wolves long extinct
in this part of the woods.

Flash lights
bounce in night’s mist
a tree creaks balefully,

ghostly whinnies
clash of metal on the wind,
a nightjar screams…

Leaves rustle
whisper bloodshed …
Unquiet spirits roam…

Mind broken
he jibbers…

Sunlight hides reason
a prayer wheel spins…

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One thought on “Unquiet Spirits

  1. What a black poem!! The words successfully create a picture of specter and black magic. No wonder the spirits are unquiet!! Great read.

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