Night Mites

I’m sitting alone in my easy chair

And the lights are turned down low,

Listening to the midnight hour

As it chimes, so long and slow,

There’s a sudden whirr as the hammer lifts

And a click before it strikes,

A startling boom from the brazen bell

That echoes throughout the night.

 

The page of my Daily Journal lies

Unwritten upon my desk,

I’d meant to write something infernal

But my thoughts had been burlesque,

I hear the whispers of tiny folk

Who laugh, perform and rage,

All hanging about in the darkness

As they try to get on my page.

 

There’s Pixies, Elves and Trolls unseen

And a couple of monsters too,

And there in the background stands the Queen

Of the Kingdom known as Loo,

The Dwarf of the Seven Rings is there

And the Land that Time Forgot,

And a flower girl from Trafalgar Square

With a bunch of forget-me-nots.

 

I wave my hand and they disappear,

Go grumbling off to tea,

I haven’t a use for them tonight

And it all depends on me,

I’d rather look for a murderer,

Or a villain, up for the chop,

As the hangman carries his length of rope

While calculating the drop.

 

There’s such a babble of voices in

My head, I can barely think,

My pen has leaked in a giant blot,

I reckon it’s out of ink,

A bride climbs up and she claims the page

And she drags the groom on board,

The only preacher I see out there

Is a Cardinal with a sword.

 

A train steams down in the valley

Puffing smoke rings up at the moon,

I cross the Cardinal off the page

And then get rid of the groom,

I take the bride on a fearsome ride

Through the Valley of Discontent,

While she sits glum by the window, says:

‘Is this what you really meant?’

 

‘Who knows,’ I said, ‘I’m only the scribe

That sits here holding the pen,

You people come from an alien tribe,

Far from the world of men.

You saturate my horizons and

You fill my eyes with tears,

You live on the border of every page

And have, for a thousand years.’

 

The clock struck one and I fell asleep,

Was slumbering in my chair,

You tried to wake me up from a dream

With curlers in your hair.

I woke with ink on my fingers as

The pen crept over the page,

And read the words it had written there,

A poem, fit for a sage!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Michaił Łaszn..]

David, this was just a fantastic read and journey as well. Very creative, well written, and entertaining with each and every line. Love your writing! It's great how you can cut loose and write like this with such ease, incorporating such a vast array of characters and activities into your story poetry. Very nice, indeed.

[Lena M. P.]

Don't complain. You obviously have magic bards blood running through your veins so if the wee people extract payment once in awhile forcing your hand to write sonnets, ballads and a folklore or two then don't complain. You get to write murder and mayhem 95% of the time and do it proud you morbid thing you. Loved the poem. Tickled me, especially when you were woke up by hair rollers. Now there is stuff of nightmares!

[Valentine]

I know how this feels..not so much when writing poetry..but my novels and mysteries..you explained very cleverly how a writes mind travels with thoughts when trying to come up with a new creation..This was clever, funny and another great one fdron you..Bravo..Kathie

[Acron 4]

Sometimes my mind want shut down. It just keeps going. I never have found a way to make it stop. There are other things that one needs to think about, for instance Life. My wife has ask me before what I was brushing off my lap, I say ohh just some crumbs, but it's really words that I didn't use in our conversation. Those alien tribes that live on the edges of my friends pages are real. He just has a mind that can and will control them. I think that is why I have a block maybe, on the other hand I might just be lazy. My life for the last few years has been easier...............Great poem David.....Thanks for sharing

[Emerald Seas]

Made me smile again, David. Your stories captivate and your style is consistent and true. If I had the desire to focus more on rhyme and meter, your skill would be the measurement of success. Happy as always to get a RR from you and join in your world, wherever the poem takes me. Lovely and fun!

[Tate Morgan]

This poem was a trip within the boundaries of the paget mind. it is easy to see you have no boubndaries. You have what all of us try to hold as well. A childish eye for things. And justlike the child who without thinking and having no feeling but curiosity you ask a blind man why he can't see and one in a wheelchair why he can't walk. There are no questions you won't ask. there are no ideas you wont dwell on. That is why you are so interesting. the wide eyed wonder you put into your work attracts us all to the childhood memories and fears we all naturally share.

[Enid Blake]

I enjoyed this one.
I start dreaming lines of poetry if I haven't written for a while and scrab around for a pen in the early hours to urgently write it down in case it fades with the dawn - lol! It is the nature of the beast for some... Ha ha ;)

[twinkleshine]

Fun read...thanks for sharing!

[David Scott]

This powm was just OK for me... Still better than most poetry I read. Did not resonate for some reason...
Maybe the topic needs a "lighter" format. IDK.
Be well my friend. Still enjoyed the read.

[quinfinn]

don't you just love that? when you have let the imagination run free and unencumbered to find out later that you have created something you are proud of? oh, this write speaks to me in ways you have already imagined. well done, sir!

[Jack...]

Sounds like a late night in the Paget household. Thoughts and ideas dance a lot, in a swirl of dream so soon forgot, and the pen which you hold calls but only one name, it cries out "Dear David, please come write again".

A very fun read.