Awakening Poem by Andrew C P Carnegie

Awakening


What of the wild waist willow,
That shoots weeping spears,
Across near dumpy pillows,
Creating forests of fear?

Aye forests of fear,
Skulking carpets of eyes,
Watching us as we near,
Waiting to create fearful cries.

Such fearful screeching cries,
Ring out above slashing torment,
As gargoyles grin squinty eyes,
True hell opening, demons sent.

These fallen gutter gargoyles,
Dripping pain like mossy rain,
Dark pools, so still, so silent, so deep,
We wake trembling from disturbed sleep.

@Andrew Carnegie, sleepy eyed Wiltshire, early 6th January 2017.