We’ve had some full-on weather over the past few days, and the night before last, the wind was really eerie. So I thought, why not freak everyone out a little bit more with a seriously creeeepy poem? You’re welcome.
The Gathering
The dusk hangs all jowly with menace and blood, the air
Shudders with creeping despair as the heave
Of the laden sky speaks of decline and disease
And the trees, glancing anxiously heavenwards
Whisper a prayer.
While a face at the glass
Tells the tale of a heart
That’s caressed by the fingers of fear
Deftly strumming
It’s coming
It’s coming
It’s coming
Can’t stop it
It’s coming
It’s coming
It’s coming
All at once the sky yields to the merciless press
As a death rattle rips though its chest, it relents
And the wind, too impatient for fanciful gusts
Simply ROARS. Timbers creak, while the curtain is thrust
In and out of the room with a suck like a labouring
Lung, and the carefully collated possessions we’ve gained
In our small, boxed-up years are snatched up with disdain
To be smashed on the walls of the dreams we were sold
Thinking we were the ones in control.
Then the rain comes in waves like the souls of the drowned
Streaking angrily back from the clouds, down and down
With revenge in their water-logged eyes. “HAVE A CARE!”
Scream the clattering bins and the torrents that pour
From the gutters, the walls that stand battered and sore
And the gardens that shiver as cold, laughing shadows
Wash light from their life-giving skies.
And the face at the glass
With its fevered eyes cast
To the roof of the world to which all life is clinging
Cries out, as it feels something visceral singing…
We’re coming
We’re coming
We’re coming
Can’t stop us
We’re coming
We’re coming
We’re coming
© Nina Parmenter 2018
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Out with for a walk with the boys yesterday, all three of us took utter delight in spotting icicles. (The boys also took utter delight in snapping them off and using them as weapons, but we’ll edit that bit out.)
My first poetry request! Just for Bec Connock and Andy Down, a poem about winter sports. This one must have been already lurking deep within me, as within 15 minutes of the request, it tumbled into my notebook like poo from a poodle.