Bare Pickings.
 
If one really knew the night bird
that haunts the midnight sky
one would be afraid of what
in his sights, he does espy.

Pickings of bare bones
dwindled to the core
ripping at the flesh
pleading for much more.

Depleting what was once
so full and much alive
now buried within ashes
no longer more to thrive.

Beware the midnight sky
when the night bird begins to caw
for he will not rest until
he's had his fill, and so much more.

~ For The Bare Bones Challenge ~

By Josephine1166

© 2008 Josephine1166 (All rights reserved)

 

Read more poems by  Josephine1166
Send this poem to a friend
Read 12 viewers comment(s)

This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Bare Bones Poetry (challenge has been closed)


The Starlite Cafe Discussion Board | Home

Back to Previous Page