On eves of cold, when slow coal fires,
rooted in basements, burn and branch,
brushing with smoke the city air;
When quartered moons pale in the sky,
and neons glow along the dark
like deadly nightshade on a briar;
Above the muffled traffic then
I hear the owl, and at his note
I shudder in my private chair.
For like an auger he has come
to roost among our crumbling walls,
his blooded talons sheathed in fur.
Some secret lure of time it seems
has called him from his country wastes
to hunt a newer wasteland here.
And where the candlabra swung
bright with the dancers’ thousand eyes,
now his black, hooded pupils stare,
And where the silk-shoed lovers ran
with dust of diamonds in their hair,
he opens now his silent wing,
And, like a stroke of doom, drops down,
and swoops across the empty hall,
and plucks a quick mouse off the stair...
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Town Owl by Laurie Lee )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Time be quite, Filippo Stella
- Domestic goddess, Mark Heathcote
- Blank Depression, Chibueze Oscar Osuji
- The tears of human race, Great Emeritus
- Capsule Of Eternity, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- MY own fault, hasmukh amathalal
- on returning to my part time job-, Mandolyn ...
- Write new chapter, hasmukh amathalal
- COPLA 71 INVOCATION: This Bad Guy World, T (no first name) Wignesan
- Gnarly Disposition, Electric Lady