Something wrong in the echoes - napowrimo poem 20

 

There is something

wrong in the echoes,

they move in like song,

a vinyl skipping the grooves.

Scratching itchy sound.

You can feel it on your tongue

like the fizz of electricity

before an almighty storm.

 

There is something wrong.

 

My head is fuzzy,

Fizzy, I’m standing on the spot,

but the world is spinning too fast,

making me dizzy.

I feel I’m falling into a pit,

fiery ashes rising up from it.

It’s all gone wrong. Somewhere.

I can feel it in the air,

in the warping atmosphere.

There once was peace,

now the peace has gone.

 

There is something very wrong.

It is drumming in my head,

a tension headache, rumbling.

Something is scraping the strings,

something is coming.

It’s out there in the darkness

echoing like a violin, screeching

like a cat. It is piercing the air,

strangled squawks, until they snap.

A clap of thunder cracks the night.

Are we under attack?

 

Something is so very wrong.

 

Menacing laughter under the echoed dawn.

The call of the void, the endless discord.

The hum is back, restored. To pull apart

every strand of sense, to rip at the heart

of our self-defence, to leave us whelping

and shamed, in suspense at what it plans

to do in our names. The hum is back

fired up to attack, the sound

at the heart of the universe, weeps,

as the tensions stack. Aching frames

start to feel the drain,

and down comes the rain.

The hum is back, ready to inflict pain.

Starship sleep

 

I feel my eyelids droop

like clouds swooping down

over my eyes, as my breathing

relaxes into deep rhythmic sounds.

I feel my body become one

with the mattress. Warping

itself to hold me tightly.

Melding itself around me,

like a cocoon.

Duvet gently brushing exposed skin.

The breath of cool wind swooning in

from the slight opening of the window.

 

And if I sleep maybe

I’ll wake up beautiful.

Maybe I’ll feel more able

to face the day.

And if I just let the sky

combust into dreams

maybe I won’t feel so useless.

 

And I feel weightless,

like I’m floating in zero gravity.

A starship

soaring through

the space waves.

Me, the captain

scouring the universe

for new places to see.

 

I let myself drift,

like I’m on a spacewalk

into the black abyss.

The void, the emptiness.

But it is not scary.

It is peaceful,

with an aura of bliss.

 

And I’m sinking deeper.

I feel every muscle

sever their connection to the brain.

No pain, no feeling,

just weightless breathing.

Sleeping.

And I’m dreaming.

Dreaming of stories yet to be.

I’m dreaming of evergreen.

A walk in the lush foliage.

A kiss beside the bridge over the stream

in the forest in some unseen memory.

And I’m at peace.

My heart beats a steady rhythm,

my feet are not twitching.

My breathing is deep.

And I’m floating on moments

I so wish to be.

Blinded - napowrimo poem 18

 

I am blinded by your beauty,

so, I can only see the

wonder that lives beneath

the iridescent surface shine

of your lustrous stream.

The glow projected only

shows a feint outline

of the you that lives inside,

much more than

any evanescent dream,

so many

different doorways to open,

so many vast chasms of awe,

so many moments of magnificence

all underneath every pore.

 

My view dazzled by beauty,

so instead, I listen.

To hear every ephemeral word,

that lifts in reverie into the air,

like an angel reading

the most precious book.

So much to explore.

The stories soar,

the heart pours,

every beat - an ethereal ripple

on my own,

like my heart is a lake

and yours is the stone

that is thrown

to awaken the waves.

Your love claws at the walls.

Awestruck I’m lost in a story

that I wish to hear until

time's final chime is struck.

 

You are the moon to my night.

The sun to my day.

The air to my sails

and I’m a boat on your seas.

You make the stories grow

in forest groves, you give

the flowers the words

to the songs they bestow.

You are panacea to my ills.

The magic that spills

from the orchestra of the universe

and I am under your spell.