Hell hounds howl at cold and distant moon
And slough off their humanity like skins,
Pretending as they shed their flesh cocoons
Perhaps they’re more than just a beast within.
Yet they have nothing on the wicked hags,
Horrendous harpies casting evil spells,
Around a cauldron huddled midst the crags.
Look where the giant creeping spider dwells
Lenticularly weaving silken traps.
Obscured in sticky balls of silk, its prey
Wish fitfully that they could ‘scape their wraps;
Entwined, they’re stored as food for future day.
Each nightmare creature comes alive to fright;
Now they it is who own unhallowed night.
Poet's Corner 