As the sun peeps out

over misty morning hills

and the dawn chorus calls

with its piercing shrill,

the demons of the night

skulk slowly away,

a sidelong glance

at the few who got away.


He rises and stretches

and with sleepy eyes,

breathes a sigh of relief

and a laughing surprise.

The nightmare lingers

in his foggy mind

until a final shiver

leaves the shadows behind.


He opens the curtains

and bathes in the sun,

the heat of all life;

a new day begun.

Out in the garden

playful squirrels flee,

across the lawn

and up into the trees.


A breath of fresh

and life giving air,

the trickling brook

near the fox’s lair.

The sighing sounds

from the tallest trees

as the leaves are rustled

by the morning breeze.


He stares out in wonder

at the glorious scene

as a Blackbird serenades

the woman of its dreams.

But beyond his control

and outside of his will

the doubts creep back in

with a slow stealthy chill.


Why must there be

so much pain in the world;

such hate and division

as the colours unfurl?

There’s so much to see,

to feel and to love,

from the ground at our feet

to the skies up above.


When did mankind

lose the will to live;

to help one another;

to share; to give;

to feel compassion

for sisters & brothers,

for family; for kinfolk;

for any and all others?


Do we no longer care

for the ones who surround,

ignoring their pleas

and heart-breaking sounds?

When did we lose

the ability to be

the ones to help

the persecuted, flee?


Defend the weak,

the young and old.

When did our hearts

stop caring; grow cold?

We are born to this world

as equal souls,

before slowly sinking

down a hate-filled hole.


Us and them;

must it always be,

does the time draw near

when we all have to flee?

The land of the free

is in shackles & chains,

they’ve sold us all

down the desolate drains.


With a sigh of resignation

he shrugs and turns away,

the dawn is dying;

the skies turning grey.

A dark storm approaching

from the distant horizon,

is it the tumult of death

and dangerous division?


There’s a wave of despair

that is too hard to fight,

its better to sleep through

the oncoming night

so behind damp eyes

he retreats and hides,

as the shadows return

where the demons reside.


Beyond the panes,

the sky turns to coal,

The Reaper is laughing,

collecting his souls.

A bountiful harvest

for the gates of hell,

yet there, in the distance,

the toll of a bell?




Written by Darren Scanlon, 23rd August 2014.

Revised 13th July 2015.

©2014 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.


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Darren Scanlon

Darren Scanlon was born in 1965 and still lives in the English Northwest.

His sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek humour and writing style has earned him 5 Star Ratings on Amazon for both his novels and his poetry. He has been writing poetry since the age of 16 and is published on many websites including 'High On Poems', where he has received great reviews:

"We at High On Poems are blessed to have found such a treasure as you amongst our midst. Your poetry is thought provoking and shakes one up. You obviously are a powerful wielder of words!"

His work to date includes:

"Hey Up, Matron!", a laugh-out-loud, roller-coaster ride through a day in the life of a NHS hospital ward from the point of view of the long-suffering patients.

Two books into the gritty crime/gangster thriller, the 'Danny Roberts Series' – "Broken Angel" & "Broken Wings".

"Positively Poetic Vol 1, 2, 3 & 4", four volumes of poetry exploring many and various moods and subjects.

"A Mouse’s Tale", an illustrated children’s novel, (based on one of his own poems).

"Alphabet Zoo", an illustrated children’s ABC book.

"The Book Of Loops And Laughter", an illustrated collection of funny poems for children and adults of all ages.

Future projects include:

"Way Back When", a comical look at childhood now and back in the 1970’s and how life has changed.

"Book 3 of the 'Danny Roberts' series.

For full details of all my work, please visit my website,

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