The Traveller Poem by Owain Glyn
The Traveller
The night was clear, and still, and silent, air like razor-blades
The naked trees stood sentry, limbs outstretched, in dark charades
The ground, a pure white wilderness, sends out no invitation
But the traveler has need of none, he knows his destination.
The blackened hedgerows stand stock-still, each thorn awake, alert
The silent world of rodents, in their nests, asleep, inert
The sullen sky keeps watchful eye, upon this cold domain
The traveler pays the sky no toll, and presses on again.
The river, black and silent, rips a scar across the land
Hooded wraiths, with trolls as slaves, the crossings do command
For their toll they seek a soul, upon which they must feed
The traveler ignores their roars, and pays them little heed.
He spies the distant hamlet, barely lit, by gibbous moon
His hollow eyes caress the skies, he hums a deathly tune
He stops outside a hovel, and grins a ghostly grin
He knows his journeys over; he can smell the fear within.
He lifts his scythe and waves it once, above his bony head
He carries out his duty, that of harvesting the dead
The traveler turns his steed around and heads off on his way
He settles in his saddle, there are more to reap today.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Wow...chilling stuff! I somehow imagine, when my time comes, I will be carried off in a litter carried by 8 burly men with muscles rippling and it's raining men' playing loudly....but a creepy guy with a scythe works for my darker side I guess: ^) This is a well written poem full of imagery and rhythm. Love it! !
Chilling indeed, but an excellent write - extremely well rhymed with great rhythm.
This deserves and I mean it the highest praise, to me, It is quite honestly the finest piece I have read in a while. The flow falls off the tongue so easily the la nguage is impeccable the visuals wonderful. And I could see him so clearly bent over trudging through the stark bitterness of a winters night. I honestly think that this write stands out as a classic it is one I wish I had written. One of the finest works I've had the pleasure of reading. Ty karen
Great work. Takes a lot of hard work and skills to actually make poetry with rhyme amd meter without the poem suffering from these restrictions. Will check out more later and added you for my later viewing pleasure. N thanks for the comment
The messenger of Death with his scythe turns round his steed and settles in his saddle to reap more heads today! ! Will it be someone from us? An alarming thought! ! The entire description is so dramatic and absorbing! ! A great write! Thanks for the comment!
Frightening words well written. A little spooky before bed. Hope this is the beginning of your New thriller
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 5:43:28 AM # 1.0.0.1119
this was an enjoyable read, a grim traveler, flows very nice a great write