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DESMOND CHILDS on Late Halloween poem (Sat, 2 Nov 2019 09:18 pm)

The gathering of crows

My minds grasp, for sleep 

tolls heavy on my sanity, as

insidious eyes; pry, their beaks foul 

in the fissures of my mind

fears creep; freed, to be fed upon

to be mantled by the feathered wings 

of darkness 

night-tide rises; the gathering of crows

drags me deep, 

into the belief, of paranoia

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Dedicated to, and influenced by Emily Dickinson:




Their eyes see nothing - of our minds

Or the voices heard inside

As silence sleeps - upon our tongues          

Where the hidden truth does lie -


We spoke belief of destiny - and -

Why our paths - had crossed 

And of the hidden truth - that lies

In the present and the past


That truth is in our sile...

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Hare’s death

I remember death

The hounding of life; 

the moving into stillness

The pounding presence 

of reality 

Then the;

quite in the stillness 

The ringing of ears

The fill of anxiety;

the hack of the flesh

The dripping of time 

congealed in my blood

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