Page the Second


A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Friday, April 24, 2015


I had this poem bludgeoning the walls of my head, so I'm going to let it breathe free. I'm not sure what Stephanie has planned for this twenty fourth day of April, because I came straight here. I'll check later. Maybe we'll jive. This is an ABAB poem:

Into oblivion nightly I chase
Out to the cliff-side and up it I go
The moon spills nectar on my upturned face
To the ghostly galleon I frantically row

Up to the peak and I run without fear
The wind combs my hair with its fingers of ice
I hunt through the glades for a magical bear
Or chase goblin sharks in the deep precipice.

Swords beat on my armor, cleave into my flesh
The rope snaps, I plummet into the crevasse
The bull stamps and runs 'til our bodies enmesh
I round the last corner, drive into a crash

And then in the morning I rise from my bed
Rumpled and tired into clothing I climb
I greet the new day with a measure of dread
The adventure of dreams is unmatchable time

Gone is the chase, the retrieval, the hunt
Adrenalin pumping, the impossible sail
I sleep through my chores like a drudging grunt
Inhabit my cubicle, typing email

But oh, when the curtains of my eyes slam shut
The nightly adventure begins once again
My imagination is full to the glut
I can only embrace th' anxiety, pain 
© 2015 by H. Linn Murphy
Here's a link to the five W's poem I was actually supposed to do. Cheers.

No comments:

Post a Comment