Poet’s Restless Sleep

WP_000315He tries to rest in peace this poet who lies asleep

contented yet a very restless soul his walls adorned

with greasepaint splattered recklessly as a lost artist.

 

Will he lay there yawing with fear of his impending

yet obscure death as he questions himself in his

restless kicking sleep while impotency curses his

genius.

 

For a poet he be a restless one bent in obscurity

yet haunted by sleeping demons he squints with

eyes bent in the solitary light of his bedside candle.

 

His ceilings dancing and adorned with captured lights

reflecting roaches scurrying to and fro amongst tobacco

stained Smokey cracks of opium dens above.

 

He prays for dawn to thrust itself upon his angelic

solitude trembling with hope and exalted by its

incandescent warmth upon aged bones drunk in

his fasting yearnings for a solitary vigil at a window

ledge standing concealing his pale and failed face yet

hidden in the scriptures of conceit.

 

One declares his apparition binds him to this room

and no more will he open tired eyes with sacred muted

voices’ ringing in his ears for this is finally an hour of silence

with crippled fingers and vain breath that

restrains circles of sleep weary eyes.

 

Like festive midnight madness he will not lament

his funeral  chamber nor distress in his dying

soul , vanquished for he will renounce suicide before

angels in his absent tomb.

 

A dying poet is composing his chants through the mist

and dying breath he watches like a nude in the mirror

of reflecting time with departed strength holding a clenched

fist while clutching his chest like a ravens talon piercing

his nakedness in silent pain.

 

Awakened to gaze upon the beauty of a face with

child like wonder sobbing of echoes with hollow sounds

as you rest your wings upon my pillow you leave my dreams

astonished as my skeletal face and frozen brain becomes my

final grave for my dream awakening from this nightmare and

feeling the morning suns warmth once again upon my naked soul.

 

© Copyright Vincent Moore 2010. All Rights Reserved.


Comments

Poet’s Restless Sleep — 10 Comments

  1. “For a poet he be a restless one bent in obscurity

    yet haunted by sleeping demons he squints with

    eyes bent in the solitary light of his bedside candle.”

    Yes…. this poet knows this all too well my friend. Brilliant piece dear poet. hugggs

    • Thank you Roxi for your kind comment, I believe many of us poets have melancholy in our hearts from time to time This was my restless sleep.

    • Well thank you so much for your loyalty my friend Rasma. I can’t help what comes from my soul. Sometimes I wish I could stop the flood of emotions from ebbing over the side but alas it does not stop. I don’t know half the time where it comes from my dear poet. Hugs

  2. I can’t begin to describe how amazing and incredible each piece I read of yours is. I hang my head in shame as I look over my own. Such a gift you are, and your words!

    • Oh Jen thank you very much for your kindest of words. I am but a simple man, with simple words and inspirations that come from I know not where. Somewhere in time my Muse comes forth and bestows upon my heart these verses that appear before me. I am often in awe myself after I have penned them and ask how, where and from whom they came from? Never hang your head in shame for we all have gifts from within, you have those gifts as well, simply keep writing and the expressions will spring forth. You my dear are a gift, never forget that, never underestimate your talent. Keep pressing on towards your craft, your art. hugs

  3. It has a rhythm and resonance of music unset to notes. So many brilliant images and metaphors, but this one grabs me most: “. . . hidden in the scriptures of conceit.” My, my!

    • Thank you my dear Nellieanna for your grand observance of my music:-) set to words. Yes as you know most poets share an abundance of metaphors, I do as well, yet much of what I write has been lived by Vincent. It pulls at my soul and then its let loose upon the world and shared here. Hugs

  4. This is simply awesome poetry, vincent! I can’t believe that you haven’t been writing it your entire life – it seems to come so naturally to you! The words you choose to describe absolutely blow my mind!

    • I didn’t start writing a lick of poetry until I came to the Hubs in 2010 and it was mainly Charlie Campbell’s aka Rawlus style that drew me into giving it a try and the rest as I said is history, I haven’t stopped writing since. I guess I’m a natural, but they do say that people who lived life of abuse, sadness, melancholy and other circumstances beyond their control are capable of expressing themselves without holding back. I do that in my works here, I write from my soul and let it all out, my Muse has fun with me and insist on my letting it all out. LOl

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