The Room - Poem by Nick Jordan
On a stormy winter night, a gloomy sight much like tonight,
I slept without a hint of light while visions burned within my head.
I dreamt of gruesome rage and hate, untimely deaths and calls of fate,
Rejection up at heaven's gate- dreams that gripped me in my bed.
Drenched in sweat and scared to tears, I woke up and at once did hear,
The very thing that fed my fears, a voice come from the upstairs room.
The room, the room, where she had died, the wretched room that I had tried
To lock and never go inside, now called me to my doom.
I walked upstairs as in a trance, stood by the door, gave it a glance,
and whether it be plan or chance, the door sprung open wide.
A rush, a gust, a thrust of wind, a blast of breath and I was pinned
Against the wall while at me grinned, the ghost of my dead bride.
I screamed and yelled while I was held, I fought against the wind propelled,
And as the spirit came I smelled the stench of death's decay.
At that moment lightning flashed, the restless soul intensely thrashed
And in the time I had, I dashed, down the steps away.
Still in fright I flipped my light, prayed to God I'd be alright,
And now I sleep night after night, in my bright-lit room.
Still some nights I hear her call, hear the scratch against the walls,
Tempting me to roam the halls, to make me once again her groom.
Comments about The Room by Nick Jordan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.