Mar
Silver Owl
Posted in Beds | No Comments »Kissaled's nightly post, what do you think???
Innocent.
Behind a silver door does speak,
An owl of burning ember beaks,
A soft touch feather touches thy sight,
Does fly up high alone at night.
The howling wolf you hear his call,
Blood soaked teeth he does fall,
Evil eyes he stops and stares,
Growling first to be oh so far.
Cracking house on rock tops,
Empty sirens that never stop,
Boneless body that slides and flops,
Hear the innocent heart go pop.
I see what you mean about the owl/snail analogy, but I think I was trying to portray any lifeless body with "Boneless body", thank you for your comment.
This moves me to strange places that I may prefer to not enter and that is the mark of good poetry to me. I am confused, the hunter is the owl and the captured prey is a snail? I like this poem.