Treasure Island

Michael Hunter

(1963 / Utah)

Nightmare


A shudder runs my o'er grown length
and brings a tear to eye,
leaving me with zero strength
to endure the burning lie!

To wither in fear of unknown truth
and run from brilliant whiteness,
and run the stairway, now turned smooth,
and fight the dizzy lightness!

What boon tis mine to now endure
the serpent's sharpened tongue,
and see my life a fuzzy blur,
and have no strength to run! ?


© 2008 Michael Hunter

Submitted: Sunday, November 02, 2008
Edited: Saturday, November 08, 2008

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  • Tj Becker (11/2/2008 3:05:00 PM)

    A short poem with a chilling imagination. The flow was perfection. Well done indeed (Report) Reply

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