A Gothic Take On the Landscape
A haunting of mist
Descends as daylight ends
Underneath a cloud of steam
Disappears the running stream
Levitating, floating, hovering above it
Following it as it snakes away
The landscape is a cauldron
Of smoke, steam and mist escaping
Of low-lying water-clouds mingled
With the haze from bonfires blazing
And the exhalations from chimney pots
Puffing away, phantoms awaking
With the night on its way
Monstrous trees cage
The last remnants of daylight
Their ragged jagged claws
Scraping, stabbing and jabbing
The sky in a rage
The willow tree has the hair
Of a witch, lime-green and straggly
Tangling and dangling
Into the waters’ edge where
The bats come feast
At the mouth of the lock
Water is frothing and foaming
As if white from fright
Running, rushing, gushing away
While the dark shadows
Of skeletal trees hover and sway
Colour is drained away
At this end
Of this winter’s day
With only a palette of white
And black remaining
Until the sun-setting,
Blood shedding sky
Gorily splashes
And pours
Down from on high
With gaping scratches
And slashes
In lunatic strokes
And savage lashes
While the sliver of a
Silvery new moon
Gouges
And chisels
Its place in the sky
Blade-like and sharp
Glimmering, glinting
In the dark
Published by Forward Press
