The Black Road

Dripping like syrup

within the thickening mist…

The oppression closes in

with sickening tendrils

each one colder than the one before…


despite the call of the wilderness,

the black road carves

its silken path through

woods where all manner of dank things

slink and roam under

cover of night…

Glinting in the moonlight and

snapping their lantern jaws

with a ravenous hunger born

from deep within…


In a world where evil is present,

and safety is indifferent at best…

the choice remains a true bitter pill…


to sell your soul to the ghosts of the street?

Or to plunge into the warmth of the trees…

where few have gone and even fewer

have returned…


whatever your decision….

the black road will continue

to beckon…

and invite…

to tempt…

and cajole…

until the end

of time…


David L. Whitman 09/02/2012 from the center lane…


27 thoughts on “The Black Road

  1. You’re out of the bat cave I see. I’d hire a matching band to welcome you back. Or maybe I should just tell the 4 men carry you on that gurney thing after I’m done being Cleopatra.

  2. Oh – first — what a riveting piece of poetry David! OK – I choose to “plunge into the warmth of the trees”. Would never want to sell my soul to street ghosts!! 🙂

    What an amazing poem and image you return to the blogsphere with. Gave me chills!

    Very happy you have returned… think of you often and hope all is well my friend ~ Much Love, Robyn

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