Things that are Dark Poetic Mythos

[Four Poems

Things that are Dark

Things that are dark, dark things
in the night bellow and sigh.
Things that are dark, dark things,
light will not mix with their eyes.

On top of cliffs, they whisper,
within the forest deep, they slurp
(casting off skin from dead tissue):
flying over shadowy graves,
chasing toads, back to brooks.

They hoverebb within, salty air,
chanting with the winds echoes;
searching for a voidvictims,
to imprint their deadly whims.

Things that are dark, dark things,

I do not know their name (s)

they weave their webs in silence

and have no blood, in their face.

At Ghouls Early Twilight
[Or, crying of the gulls

Twas empty, the salty sky, at earliest twilight. Quiet, was their flight over sea and bog. Far off, far off a flood of noises oozed in the dark. Throbbing noises, sounds with howls. Weathered skulls, breasts bare, ghouls crowned with dark, a da rk mistemanating from the undergrowth within; all waiting, waiting for the passing of the seagulls again; waiting, just waiting with bitten-lips.

The seagulls flew low, low by the amorous reptilesand then passed the refulgent ghouls, all were looking up, up, like stemmed lit-foliage, lost in the dark green-sea; like fire bugs: looking up, up: up into the shadowy eyes of early twilightas the gulls, gulls flew low, low: low with lamp-lit-eyes, low they flew through the sky; too low this time.

Ah! tho knowith fate seats a carcass at early-twilight, whispered the Master Ghoul to his Horde: then his tongue slurped out, out like a reptilian beastripping a gull from the sky to his feet; its mate, torn asunder. Flying in circles in wonder, Whats amiss? she cried, cried, with salty-eyes, looking into the eerie twilight, into the shadowy shrubbery, whats wrong, wrong? she sighed, sighedheavily, as she flew high, high, and higher; listening to the muffled sounds of kicki ng feet, in wonder.

The Ghost Eater
[Picture on front of book

Its skindark, scabbing
tightly stretched across its bones,
a frost-bitten soul.

Listen! the ghouls are hissing.
Comes the ghost-eater! [They cry.
Their final danger.

The Eyes of Tikal
[Ghostly Mayan eyes

Tikal, I saw your serpent stones
Resting upon Mayan bones
Of warriors long ago

It is said:
All met with violent deaths.
Scornful faces where they rest
Harsh reality, upon their breasts;
Now, ghostly-eyes, among the dead.

#450 [1/11/2005 Things that are Dark
#452 [1/12/2005 At Ghouls Early Twilight
#453 [1/13/2005 The Ghost Eater
#454 [1/14/2005 The Eyes of Tikal

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
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