His Wandering Mind

Outer SpaceCaresses his room

as he lay this night

tossing and turning

in his bed, while

thoughts of dying

come and go like

the melting snow

outside his front

door.

 

He pours through

visions that hath

been still, yet with

deepest passion

scattered here in

dreams of early

light, has left

the heart trembling

of what lays beyond

his grave and waits

for him over there, next

to the one that knocked

on his door so many

days ago.

 

After all he is just a man

of flesh, bone, and blood

living through a lasting

dream who sighs deeply

and heaves his chest as

every heart beat ticks

away to the second

hand of the clock beside

his bed, with silent

hours that pass him

in dread.

 

So many spirits

restless as a chilly

wind against a

slumbering moon,

await the sun to

shine, and lift them

from the darkest side

of their lofty tombs.

 

Whispering in his ear

of live events past and

present without any future

or real end, simply wandering

back and forth inside his

aching head.

 

Misty anxious

thoughts continue

without semblance,

as one nightmare after

another strikes him with

so much fear,

each passing

binds him

in their

spell.

 

 

He stirs and quivers

with each wave

that comes turning

and tossing, then

sitting up looking

around into the

darkness of the

abyss with squinting

eyes he see’s their

shadows darting here

and there, he screams

to them please be still

and let me get

some rest.

 

He try’s to open eyes

but they are pulled tighter

with the force of a torturer’s

clamp, sewn with malice to

inner lids, as they are bled

preventing his soul from

awakening.

 

Oh pity me

this night, and

let not my candle

light leave in flight,

whilst another roach

slowly walks across

his chamber floor

quickly does he jump

from rest and squash

it dead while screaming

why do you torture me

so with insects from

below my wretched bed.

 

Spirits gather in number

and attack his very soul

for wanting of their

pleasures, they won’t

release him from their grip

as he sink’s even

further still into their

domain

 

Blindly does he fumble

for the door and find

it closed, stumbling

back into his bed

pulling the cursed

sheets up over

his head to try

and hide himself

from those who

float and flutter

in the dim-lit

haze outside

his window pane.

 

How ashamed

He feel’s though

Giddy in a way as

the hours pass

and night is gone

to become dawn

once more and his

sleepless souls journey

subside’s for just awhile

knowing very well they

will come to  haunt

him over, and over again,

until he is hovering

himself  over another’s

bedroom wall.

 

His mind is altered

every time as madness

sets in from deep within

and fingers take him far

away to distant lands

and gentle folk. of meadows

filled with shepherds

sheep, I count each

and every

one tormented

by ghosts

unknown to

this poet

who just

wants peace

and quiet

each night

in his

chamber

rest.

 

Please stop

abusing me with

words of cursing fires

I don’t understand

foreign tongues

nor yours that

shoot at me

across my room

echoing sadness

and murmuring

anger for being

who you are lost

in limbo near

someones window

pane like mine.

 

Even my Raven

is disturbed

his feathers

thicken

his beak

now pecking

at the air

as if to

say leave

us here go

fly away

to some

others

chambers

but not here

please

my Master

needs his

slumber.

 

© Copyright 2012 by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved

 


Comments

His Wandering Mind — 21 Comments

  1. Brilliant! I can relate to this piece so well. It’s either my mind refusing to settle…questioning the myriad of lifes mysteries, or out right nightmares during restless sleep, or the occasional visit from my mysterious guardian. Having the mind of a writer doesn’t help, dos it? The creativity just adds to the relentless deluge pouring over the mind. Great poem Vincent. Keep it going brother!

    • Thank you for your keen observation of the creative mind, it never really sleeps, we feel at rest when we lay down, however often our thoughts are heavy. I know I’ve had a disturbing sleep by the way I feel in the morning sometimes. Yet other times I am fully energized, My muse plays with my juices even whilst at rest. Your correct in saying that we have a deluge of stimulants working overtime in our heads at times my poet.

  2. Wow, you two gentlemen know how to write of dark nights and scary nightmares. Thank goodness I seldom member a dream (or even a nightmare), and with dreams like yours, I’d say I happy not to remember them! May you find peaceful dreams tonight and remember them if you can. Hugs to you both!

    • Well thank you Sandy, believe me it isn’t always fun, my mind is often halted, my quill idle, my inspiration flown on wing. I am happy that you report of no bad dreams, you are very fortunate my friend. I wish you continued success, lol I find much of my work comes from deep within the abyss of my mind, the demons never rest my dear, they play havoc with their wickedness and tricks with my mind.

    • I can fully understand the where your coming from too my friend. It’s not easy on our minds when we are bombarded with visions and demons.

  3. It’s YOU, Vincent, there is no doubt of that, Does me no good to wish your burden were lighter. It is what it is and you always convey it vividly in your writs. This one is NO exception, though I sense you find some sort of escape or comfort in the familiarity of it all. Hopefully!

    • Well it is somewhat dear poet, however metaphors are used and of course poet’s license to use them as we do. I am not so hard done by:-) I am simply a very visual poet, I want my reader to feel every word and often they tell me they do, that makes me happy. Although yes I have some familiarity with my past, I do not let it consume me today. I live very peacefully alone with some close friend, my male cat Toby and all is good. Hugs

    • I toast to thee poet of the year, as far as I’m concerned you are poet eternal, time has no restrictions on your marvelous talent as a writer and poet. I am simply happy to be associated with you and your brilliant poetry. I am so happy that the members at the Hubs who read your work finally woke up and voted you in as Poet of the Year. Keep writing and publishing your work and you will always have an audience. I would love to be there with you to congratulate you in person and join you in a glass of sherry or two;-)

  4. Incredible journey I took with you. I have had nights where I have been tossing and turning trying to shut off my mind and the thoughts that come crowding in. I have tried to stop restless spirits from running through my thoughts and have wound up with a restless night and even a more befuddled brain in the morning hours. Pearling and sharing.

    • Thank you Rasma for the visit, its been awhile. Yes our minds often work on overload during sleeping hours, I’ve often woken up worn out, believe me that first cup of java in the morning sure helps. Hugs

  5. Vincent my long time friend how beautifully you have captured so many of my fears. I loved every word but these will stick with me perhaps forever.

    his grave and waits

    for him over there, next

    to the one that knocked

    on his door so many

    days ago.

    • I thank you once again for sharing my work. I’ve often felt moved by I don’t know who to pen what enters this mind of mine. It definitely is a wandering one, Poe is often present, him and I would have been and maybe still are kindred wandering spirits. Peace and blessings I send to you this morning, what waits for us all is peace and love forevermore.

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