At 3am in the dark'ling gloom
I met the Messenger of Doom!
There in the shadows I could see
a spectre, devil, spook, banshee
Her eyes were cold as outer space
her cheeks bereft of all embrace
her mouth was formed into an "O"
which ululated songs of Woe!
All beauty faded from the air
I heard Death step upon the stair ~
And cow'ring neath the blankets thin
my little room began to spin!
Aloft before my tiny bed
She scrutinized me toe to head
I then saw from her robe emerge
A withered hand clamped on a scourge
She flailed her whip around the room
a cyclone threat'ning to exhume
A swirling, pounding, rushing flood
of rage, regret, of pain, of blood
A storm of horror crashing down
I flailed, I flapped, convinced I'd drown
The Messenger unfurled a squall
and there was no escape at all!
of rage, regret, of pain, of blood
A storm of horror crashing down
I flailed, I flapped, convinced I'd drown
The Messenger unfurled a squall
and there was no escape at all!
A vortex black and swirled with blue
the Underworld came into view
and down-down-down a twisting hole
the hour ate my quiv'ring soul!
the hour ate my quiv'ring soul!
My mind thus drenched in dread and drear
Conviction rose that Life is Fear!
I saw, as if for the first time
the Horror, Hatred, Sadness, Grime!
The world? Fast on its way to Hell
my job: a farce!
my youth - Farewell!
The lawn was dead
the neighbors: thugs!
The duvet? Surely filled with bugs!
The money burned, the nest egg blown
my teeth on edge
my hairpiece, flown ~
My love life ne'er had taken off
my dancing, sad
my pect'rals - soft!
The cat curled by me purred disease
my top hat crushed
my God: Displeased!
my dancing, sad
my pect'rals - soft!
The cat curled by me purred disease
my top hat crushed
my God: Displeased!
At 3am the world reversed!
The life I'd loved
felt horr'bly cursed
My talents - sham
my blessings, nails
The ladies-of-the-evening: males!
Why wait until the light of day
when Night serves up her black bouquet?
Who needs the Bright for clarity
when Darkness wreathes barbarity
'round every thought, on every deed
on all our dreams now gone to seed?
So if at 3am you find
The 'Poclypse chomping your behind
afore allowing Death to creep
into your soul - Go back to sleep!
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Comments
Welcome back, M. And what an entrance.
Thumbed. Awestruck, even.
Arrrrggghhh mate! Anything but that! All the rest I could abide.
Alas! so long we all in pain did wait
And now at last, 'tis true, 'tis doubly sure!
The lifting of a monstrous heavy weight --
A post, a poem, a verse, from Le Monsieur!
In the dark we all did daily wonder
What ill befell the noble Chariot --
Was he still on earth or now down under?
Or foul betrayed by some Iscariot?
Passed days and months, yea, years to us it seemed.
We prayed, we begged, implored the lofty Gods
For return of Chariot. We all dreamed
He'd come again, somehow, against all odds.
And now to our delight again he's back,
Complete with top hat, cloak, and raiment dear.
We dress in joyful white, no more in black,
No eye is dry, no cheek without a tear.
Anon.
my dancing, sad
my pect'rals - soft!"
I love that.
I actually love the thing as a whole.
Good work.
You are worth waiting for, Monsieur! I am sorry if indeed you endured such a 3 a.m. (this may have been a story told to you by an unfortunate, so that you could relate it as a warning to others, in your finest prose) but whatever the truth, I'm glad you shared it here.
By the way, Poe's heirs are on the phone...........
My talents - sham
my blessings, nails
The ladies-of-the-evening: males!
Poe-etic indeed, my dear Monsieur.
As for your poem, what is it about the middle of the night that so invites these dark fatal morbid thoughts that scream at us so relentlessly. You are flawless in your words of poetry that so perfectly describe that sense of terror, doom and death.
And forgive me for my greediness...so thrilled am I to see you back, I'll take ten more poems that speak of death rather than think you might disappear once again.
WOOF WOOF WOOF
I do appreciate the scrawl
the greetings, praise
the Welcome back
such kind indulgence for a hack!
My dear Monsieur Mistake ~ I am sending a reply regarding your inquiry via private Message!
As always, merci.
Been a long time! Welcome back!
What did I tell you...
Un triomphe magnifique!
At least let me echo praise for this lovely poem before I sink into a slough of despond.
Missed your postings, missed you.
For this auspicious occasion, I'll trot out the only French limerick I know, by Edward Gorey:
Les salons de la ville de Triste
Sont vaseux, suraigus, et funestes;
Parmi les grandes chaises
On parle des malaises,
Des éstropiéments, et des pestes.
With regard to the Xanax recommendation, my dear Mlle Roddick, would this take the place of the bedtime Scotch?
Magnifique!
rated
and many thanks for the verse.
Having had the first course of the banquet, we are ready for the second. It has been a long absence, and The People are hungry.
No wait...you are UberFabulous.
...yes...thats almost right.
Exquisite.
You've retained your eloquent touch
Like Sandra---I also heard Shel Silverstein---and I have no higher compliment.
I do try not to gush---but geez---this was great.
I've been trying to reply to your comment on my blog for hours and for whatever reason, I can comment to others but not to my own. In any case, I would be beside myself with glee to invite Monsieur to use my bathroom! (You would have to stay and extra day or two, however, so that I might share the delicacies of the DC Art collections.)
But now, since your last post was so mahvelous, I'm going to throw snails dripping in butter at you. Hope you have those tools to get the get the snails out of the shells. Garlic is included. Just to keep the vampires away.
I did send you a haiku private.
Didn't know you were so popular. What a dude.
I adore this.
And, so timely as I chose NOT to post the godforsaken terrible poem I drafted last night around 2:30AM.
Thank you.