A Long Dark Knight Poem by JJ Evendon

A Long Dark Knight

The ferocity of wind mixed with lashing rain,
pelts noisily against the large sash window pane.
A tree blows over, makes an awful crashing sound.
Hailstones, the size of cherries, pepper the well sodden ground.
It's late, I'm tired, so go upstairs to bed, away from the noise and cold.
The heating's broken, so take another blanket that I then unfold.

Just finished reading a book 'The Devil's Soul',
a dark story about the spirit underworld.
Where the dead, whose rising mortal souls they seek,
have hunger only satisfied by exploiting the living weak.
Sleep now turned dream, I'm falling down a long dark slide,
I try to stop, but feel my hands are bound and tied.
The sides are too slippery, and wet to grasp.
I am tumbling backwards and forwards, far too fast.

Lost in a mazed tunnel, somewhere beyond reason or depth,
a pungent smell rises, hits me and takes away my breath.
I try, but cannot escape the horror, witnessed in front of my face -
for what I see, are not creatures from our Earthly race.

I'm in a world where nightmares are made with red-hot spice.
Mixed by monsters, whose long claws and sharp teeth love to suck and bite.
For here, sustenance is administered through an infusion of pain,
which feeds our unconscious, to set mind against brain.

Where the living are the dead, and the dead are the living,
a dark existence that's always there and not forgiving.
Dreams are not windows to a person's soul
unlike nightmares where that is its prized goal.

Through life's history many horrors have been seen and told
but not one can match the mighty power of the silver sword.
A weapon that is both revered and feared alike
found raised high, like Excalibur in my right hand, now held tight.
Wielding it back and forth cutting off limbs and heads
mutilated bodies piled high of all those which have fallen, now lay dead.
My blade coloured crimson through slicing flesh, sinew and bone,
for these creatures, no mercy would ever be shown.

Suddenly I hear a sound far above the tortuous cries
drawing me to the light of the early morning sunrise.
The storm that once ferociously blew has now gone
and I find myself awake and wrapped in my lover's arms.
Though this nightmare gave me quite a stir
my perfect dream would forever be, one that is always of her.

Thursday, March 6, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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