Howling Wind

Posted on Jul 1, 2013


Windy Night

Picture courtesy of

The howling wind like a daemon outside
powers against the window
It’s spit hitting hard against the pane
a figure huddles in the warm, listening to the radio

Gary Moore plays in his heartbreaking way
still got the blues for you he does say
So have we Gary, so have we
up in heaven this wordsmith, he is free

The room is dark as the music plays
his guitar playing in an angelic grace
It breaks his heart as he listens
eyes well up as they glisten

The fading chords make the daemon go away
this music from the gods does fade
The beating heart in the room so sad
for a musician taken early, too much to be had

With a start the pane of the window bangs
the daemon is back and it’s brought a gang
Under the quilt the figure does hide
hopefully from view that nothing can find

The howling wind keeps up its relentless barrage
but the figure inside feels free from harm
As he drifts away from mindless things
at peace away from daemons and grief

And in his mind a guitar plays
softly to him, daemons it slays
Moore’s fingers play the strings
all the better for the sleeping figure that dreams

Posted in: Poetry