Poem of the Day #1: "Cold Eyes"

The "Poem of the Day" is a new feature that will appear, you guessed it, daily.  All are original works and may be accompanied by short essays or random thoughts about either the poem itself or the nature of poetry.  This one isn't, because you get this instead.  Whoohoo.  Aren't you excited?  I know I am.

And the men--

All shrouded grey--

Did through the mist appear.

And though the fog hangs heavy there

Their forms seemed all too clear—

The memory of faces

Shrouded cold

And those grim visaged eyes

Strike terror

In my bones

Their frozen laugh still makes me cry.

Though many years have passed since

Last I saw that host

I shall, I fear, never forget

The time I saw those

Wicked ghosts.

©2003 by Benjamin Snyder