Shadow Chant
Burnt amber fades away to brown; a cackling moon appears to frown -- a glint of lantern’s light is hurled at shadows of this Netherworld.
Hysteria is sung aloud; a festival of souls endowed begin a grim, yet hallowed chant which escalates to gruesome rant.
Their lair, immersed in orange mist carves echoes with ancestral fists into reflective moonlit skies; a whisper once unscathed, allies.
Whose treat is this? the spirits cry… We’ll not find out – until we die!
Copyright © Lorraine M Kanter 30 Oct 2009
Original: Their lair, soaked in red-orange mist
Poem mused from the Times Ten challenge for 24 Oct 2009. Words: grim, shadow, lantern, Netherworld, festival, orange, hysteria, treat, carve, moon
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