In whispered tones it beckons
a voice I know and know not
prodding me though my fears race
raw, persistent, refusing to abate
dread, the hands motioning to me
more compelling than desire
for my next breath, a gasp
colder than dark earth spaded
for the invitation of interment
my leave an option expired
only fate can exhume my mind
from this pit, misery gripping my soul
shadows taunting concealing stealing
the last vestiges of joy's light
mighty is the curse pursuing me
a demon in the night, in the light
shall peace be always snatched
from moments of my every contentment
This reminds me of the way I feel when I let a regret or piece of guilt take over my mind. These things can drag us down and even make us feel as though we don't deserve happiness. Just my reaction to this poem. Poe would have smiled:)
Sheila
Love Always,
Chanti Lace xoxoxo
Stay well.
Ron
and a bit frightening, I'd be concerned. Actually I am. But this
is so well crafted, my friend, that I read in admiration the depth
of your talent to explore the the demons that often haunt us all.
My thoughts, as you know, are with you. -gene.
peace and love, Carole~
Intertwining, mingling...proding emotions to be felt...
revealing suspense, leaving me suspended...
Wonderful Darkled Edifice...peering into an abyss..
let us light a candle to see the cursing presence
Love & Inspirations!
Vickie :)
Cheers,
Dan
~W~
fee
EDWIN
Be always safe,
Karen
This has the terrible passion one reads in Hopkins's dark sonnets, and the beauty, too; "...more compelling than desire for my next breath," haunts me, troubles me and yet in that strange marvellous way great writing has lifts me up, the words transcending the very thought.
This is splendid writing.
John