Friday, March 14, 2008

The Night Mare

Are they real
or need I wake
these things that make
me want to quake
A freckled child
a sylph, some scones
invade my mind
like sharpened stones
A dancing maiden,
dismembered thumb
all mixed together
where from they come?
Like a flat rootbeer
no longer fizzy
if I arouse will
I not be dizzy?
Some cows on ice
skates that gleam
all rabble 'round
within my dream
The suasion mounts
it does proceed
the laughing horse
begs me to heed
Haunted hours
spent in my bed
crazy thoughts
zip 'round my head
I toss and turn
why do they mock
I wish I'd hear
my alarm clock


Michelle Johnson said...

You bring such an uplifting spirit with your poetry. I love this. I don't think I have ever wanted to hear my alarm clock though. But, I always enjoy seeing what you can come up with. Have a nice day.

gautami tripathy said...

Hauntingly beautiful post. The disjointed thoughts are somehow very cohesive here.

animal instinct

tumblewords said...

The breathless movement of the words in your poem are surely indicative of
a nightmare - nice!

OneMoreBeliever said...

scones and cows oh my!!!... my nightmares could not compete with yours!