#sleepwalking - Hello Poetry

just past darkest, in pre-dawn where only ghosts belong somnambulist stood on the lawn in lonely morn birdsong up high a sky of dark blue slate and smudged by moonlit chalk inquired why, so soon, too late he’d judged it wise to walk he’d missed the gold at set of sun the cloak of night long fell and kissed by cold, feet wet and numb been woke under this spell in bare feet, naked and alone his toes caressed the grass had rare, sweet, sacred things unknown disposed themselves to pass? if not then how had this occurred - just slept-walked down the stairs? alfresco now, from slumber stirred and crept out unawares? no light did switch, no latch did lift, no dead bolt did he slide what nightmare glitch cast him adrift and led him on this ride? to understand why he’d been drawn he leaned upon the fence and scanned the hills ahead, forlorn but gleaned no ounce of sense his thoughts parlayed a trick was played a kind of waking dream for sport that bade him walk or wade the mind’s unconscious stream but when coerced the mist did clear on tracks once shaded black how he’d traversed from there to here - the facts cascaded back he’d climbed in bed to get some rest a touch before nightfall an aching head and tight of chest that much he could recall he’d said “I’ll live, not really ill -benign, not far from norm I’m fed up with this winter chill but fine, on par, just warm” then pulled the sheets ‘til tightly wrapped to burn that fever out but lulled from sleep, felt shoulder tapped he turned as if to shout a djinn or sprite was in the room beside him, floating there it’s skin so white it lit the gloom supplied him quite a scare and tall and thin, half out, half in each limb a branch of birch with pointy chin and wicked grin the grim of some dark church he couldn’t deal with that right then so lay to face the wall in time he’d steal a look again or maybe not at all “I’ll save my view from things untrue and hocus-pocus lies that see-through, voodoo, bug-a-boo made by unfocussed eyes.” since that’s the way he dealt with things and had done all his life downplay, delay the woes it brings he’d shun, defer all strife with problems near, beset by fear he’d sit them out and wait his steer was clear, why interfere? commit them unto fate you might expect fiends from beyond that form of fevered head won’t interject, reply, respond - but here’s what this one said “Why, don’t be shy, deny your eye or will me to wink out divert, decry, dismiss, defy I’ll still be here, don’t doubt concerns you spurn when trouble stirs you never make a stand your court adjourns, your head inters wherever you find sand but think on this, somnambulist who sleeps all through his day ignorant bliss by case dismissed won’t keep my kiss at bay Death, the darkest, endless black says nigh it’s time to pay somnambulist get off your back or die right where you lay.” what happened then remained occult but hindsight left implied the whys and whens and end result was in the night - he’d died a skipped heat beat, forgotten breath then pale and stiff and cold beneath the sheet, begotten death the tale at last was told unless, undressed he’d thought to rise impressed by Death’s dark voice duress he guessed might make him wise if pressed with that stark choice to Heaven’s bliss, to Hell to roast or on Earth still to dwell somnambulist or new born ghost? the birthing morn would tell.

0

Oct 20, 2024

Oct 20, 2024 at 3:03 PM UTC

X-RHYMES

THE SOMNAMBULIST

just past darkest, in pre-dawn where only ghosts belong somnambulist stood on the lawn in lonely morn birdsong up high a sky of dark blue slate and smudged by moonlit chalk inquired why, so soon, too late he’d judged it wise to walk he’d missed the gold at set of sun the cloak of night long fell and kissed by cold, feet wet and numb been woke under this spell in bare feet, naked and alone his toes caressed the grass had rare, sweet, sacred things unknown disposed themselves to pass? if not then how had this occurred - just slept-walked down the stairs? alfresco now, from slumber stirred and crept out unawares? no light did switch, no latch did lift, no dead bolt did he slide what nightmare glitch cast him adrift and led him on this ride? to understand why he’d been drawn he leaned upon the fence and scanned the hills ahead, forlorn but gleaned no ounce of sense his thoughts parlayed a trick was played a kind of waking dream for sport that bade him walk or wade the mind’s unconscious stream but when coerced the mist did clear on tracks once shaded black how he’d traversed from there to here - the facts cascaded back he’d climbed in bed to get some rest a touch before nightfall an aching head and tight of chest that much he could recall he’d said “I’ll live, not really ill -benign, not far from norm I’m fed up with this winter chill but fine, on par, just warm” then pulled the sheets ‘til tightly wrapped to burn that fever out but lulled from sleep, felt shoulder tapped he turned as if to shout a djinn or sprite was in the room beside him, floating there it’s skin so white it lit the gloom supplied him quite a scare and tall and thin, half out, half in each limb a branch of birch with pointy chin and wicked grin the grim of some dark church he couldn’t deal with that right then so lay to face the wall in time he’d steal a look again or maybe not at all “I’ll save my view from things untrue and hocus-pocus lies that see-through, voodoo, bug-a-boo made by unfocussed eyes.” since that’s the way he dealt with things and had done all his life downplay, delay the woes it brings he’d shun, defer all strife with problems near, beset by fear he’d sit them out and wait his steer was clear, why interfere? commit them unto fate you might expect fiends from beyond that form of fevered head won’t interject, reply, respond - but here’s what this one said “Why, don’t be shy, deny your eye or will me to wink out divert, decry, dismiss, defy I’ll still be here, don’t doubt concerns you spurn when trouble stirs you never make a stand your court adjourns, your head inters wherever you find sand but think on this, somnambulist who sleeps all through his day ignorant bliss by case dismissed won’t keep my kiss at bay Death, the darkest, endless black says nigh it’s time to pay somnambulist get off your back or die right where you lay.” what happened then remained occult but hindsight left implied the whys and whens and end result was in the night - he’d died a skipped heat beat, forgotten breath then pale and stiff and cold beneath the sheet, begotten death the tale at last was told unless, undressed he’d thought to rise impressed by Death’s dark voice duress he guessed might make him wise if pressed with that stark choice to Heaven’s bliss, to Hell to roast or on Earth still to dwell somnambulist or new born ghost? the birthing morn would tell.