I won't be saved, here in my grave
For the dead man walks upright.
In a town, by fog surround
he laughs and caws all night.
The Tall Man to some
The Walker he's known.
Under moonlight shadows
he roams and roams.
The doors are locked, the windows barred
His eyes a piercing white.
Taller than the tallest man
none surpass in height.
A cloak hides his ragged chest
carried by spindly limbs.
He prowls the streets on cold dark nights
to speak to you his hymns.
So I will stay here in my grave
for I've heard his words before.
And I can tell you my dear pest
I'd rather hear no more.
-
Author:
Jack Cohen (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 16th, 2021 10:50
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments2
a poem to applaud.....loudly!
Thank you!
So you've seen me during the night Jack. 😈😈😈.
Andy
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.