"Poetry & Rhymes" by William Hancock

Posts tagged “Dark

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“From The Shadows”

From The Shadows

There’s something in the night,

That crawls, there is,

Moaning and groaning,

Coming for the kids.

.

White eyes in the dark,

No pupil there in,

The dog won’t even bark,

For the fear in him.

.

It lives in the shadows,

From demons, was born,

From down in hell’s gallows,

No shape, nor form.

.

Like some ancient curse,

To squander your soul,

To quench a thirst,

That’s never been full.

.

.

William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/867904 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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“The Darkness”

''The Darkness''

As the day passed, and the sun went down,
Waiting for all the stars to shine;
How quiet it was as night arrived,
The only sound was mine.. .

A growing mist,
A tree, it twists,
An aching wrist,
As I clench my fist.

A glowing eye,
It’s telling lies,
No reason why,
As I pass it by.

A groaning man,
He raised his hands,
Preaching of land,
And some dirty sand.

Where’s the stars, that should have shined,
Where is the moon this night?
All I see is darkness around,
Nothing here seems right.. .

A withered dock,
Some broken blocks,
A half sunk yacht,
Sits on a rock.

A feathered clown,
Is feeding hounds,
He spies the town,
With a mean ol’ frown.

Approaching cold,
And screaming souls,
A sound so old,
As the stories told.

What is all this, this strangeness I see,
Where are the cars on the street?
Is this a dream or something worse,
Evil from in Hell’s deep.. .

I close my eyes,.. . and.. .

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/744691 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“Life’s Thief !”

Life's Theif !

The worst thief of all,
Is one who steals a life.
No right to make that call,
At the end of your knife?

A life you do steal,
No remorse, nor even shame.
At the end of your steel,
For what purpose, what gain?

There will be a time,
For you to pay your due.
You’ve committed a crime,
Against all that is true.

God gave us this gift,
A test of our worth.
You hurried so swift,
A life from this earth.

You cheated them of success,
Of earning their place,
You have no regret,
A life you did waste.

There’s a place for you,
Where Satan, he awaits,
To torment you through,
Watching your skin, as it bakes.

You murdered so brutal,
Their life was your snack.
Your evil and cruel,
And there’s no turning back.

For your selfishness, you troll,
You’ll pay with not your life,
But with all of your soul,
For eternities endless night.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/623253 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′


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“3:AM”

3 AM

It’s three A M,
So early now,
I feel the chill.

As morning comes,
A day begins,
It’s so surreal.

Still the light,
Seeing it there
On window sill,

Has yet moved on,
Leaving me here
To await what’s real.

Moments of truth,
Glimpses of past,
As night stands still.

Still no sleep,
Has gifted me,
This night does steal.

This emptiness,
From yesterday past,
This hole to fill.

I raise my fist,
In rage this night,
Of life’s ordeal.

I scream at you,
As morning comes,
And night is still.

It’s three A M,
And still I moan,
With things I feel.

.
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved
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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/634092 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′


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“Dead Asleep”

Dead Asleep - ©

As I lay here, on my bed,
Wide awake, but yet asleep.

On the floor,
An apple core,
An open door,
There is no more.

All alone, within my room,
A window sill, a door it creaks.
Am I dreaming, I’m awake,
Just lying here, a top my sheets?

There screams a crow,
Along a shore,
No one knows,
Why no more.

A lonely trail,
A line of trees,
A lizards tail,
And winter breeze.

A single bike,
An empty town,
A moonlit night,
Nowhere a sound.

In the distance, rings a bell,
Pulling me, from in my sleep.
A rippling creek, a river bank,
A mountain top, a flock of sheep.

In my head,
There it’s said,
With this thread,
Your soul I’ll shed.

A feather falls, a candles’ lit,
A blinding light, A soothing heat.
There again, a voice it says,
Make no mistake, it’s what you reap.

The road you took, the life you led,
Your mine to take, while your asleep.

.
.
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/849842 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′