Phil Roberts


I turn 65 on the 31st of January 2022. I love cats, rock music, and horror fiction and poetry

Death Bringers seeking quarry
In a village now lost to dread,
In a land once for the living
Now called the land of the dead.

Death Bringers exsanguinate
Sucking out the life-giving blood,
Till corpses fill the alleyways
And red streams flow like a flood.

Hunting through the streets by night
Death Bringers spreading disease,
Smiling grimly as innocents die
Unmoved by their frantic pleas.

With lethal beaks and scaly wings
And deadly talons instead of claws,
They run down any living being
Looking like ill-formed dinosaurs.

Death Bringers seeking quarry
In a village soon after darkfall,
Shrilling like the voice of death
Sounding like a werewolf's call.

Running faster than a cheetah
They can chase any victim down,
As they stalk the streets by night
In a darkened petrified town.

In a town now lost to terror
Death Bringers haunt the night,
Spread fear, death, and mayhem
Like some hideous newborn blight.

Winging loudly through the town
Terrified people hear them overhead,
Barricading their doors and windows
Knowing soon they might be dead.

© Copyright 2021 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia