Read Poem: THE COLD HOUSE by Fadrian Bartley

The sun is down and the moon comes up
Reflecting through
These white silky curtains
Blowing in the winds
The night creatures screech
With owls of cuckoo
Rest on tree branches, brushing againt the window glasses from outside

Pitch black with the bright eyes
Of a cat below the palms tree
Sitting on an old rugged grave
With the sparks of lightening’s illuminate
The environment
Fearfully I quickly close the window
Alone inside, The shallow confinement

Accompanied with nothing
Except Madonna’s and mannequins
With ghastly appearance
Surrounded with antique items
Of old fashion state
The cold windy night
Expressing the silence, Within the lonely house of fright

Like a hollowed ground with an obscure presence
And intense feel of ghastly subsidence
This lifeless place
Where no lights seem to trace
Tangled with fear
And no company to share
My weary eyes burn resisting to sleep
Afraid of the dark, as…