The Curdling Moon Poem by Mark Heathcote
The Curdling Moon
As a bird sang softly, I leaned out;
On leaning out on the ledge,
I heard a commotion fraught.
Dark, it ominously held danger.
It's then I heard her murderer.
As the curdling moon turned blood red
An owl began to hoot.
It was then I felt a compulsion.
'Not to give a hoot.'
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/18/2024 12:21:07 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I felt a compulsion, good writing, I like it, thanks