Phil Roberts


I am 64 and loves cats, rock music, and horror fiction and poetry

The shadow of death
Is drifting by like a cloud,
Of toxic gases.

Those who see it run
Those who don't fall lifeless,
Like a discarded doll.

Cats and dogs race off
Birds fall from the skies,
Nothing living is immune.

Lovers holding hands
On a midnight stroll collapse,
Killed as the cloud nears.

Revellers returning
From a late-night party die,
Metres from their home.

Street people dying
By the dozen, as the Shadow
Of death goes past.

A wandering drunk
Walks into the shadow and,
Is found dead at dawn.

The Shadow of Death
Passed through this town, taking
Many lives out with it.

© Copyright 2021 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia