Buried Alive!

The air was thin as I breathed it in,

It scarcely filled my throat,

I thrashed about and I tried to shout

But all I could do was croak,

I couldn't move for the lid above

And the sides just hemmed me in,

When a tap-tap-tap beneath my back

Broke in on my nightmare dream.

 

'Elizabeth! Elizabeth!' I croaked,

As the torment grew,

'Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Oh Lord,

Please Lord, not you!'

The sweat broke out on my fevered brow,

The terror grew within,

For hell was there in my bleak despair

As the rattle of death chimed in!

 

My wife then slapped me about the face,

'Wake up - it's only a dream!'

I filled my lungs with a rush of air,

And fought the desire to scream.

'And who's this woman, Elizabeth?'

She said in a sombre tone,

'If ever I thought I'd caught you out

You'd be coming on home, alone.'

 

I shook my head in confusion then,

'Not true! There's only you!

The dream is simply an awful scene

Night terrors put me through.'

'You'd better get to a Shrink,' she said,

'I've had enough of this,

For every night it's the same, you fight

For a woman you seem to miss.'

 

I went to a Psych, with no result,

I went to a Naturopath,

I tried to sweat out the evil in

The salts of a cleansing bath,

I even sat in a séance, tried

To find if a spirit cared,

When the spirit of one, Elizabeth, said:

'Remember the love we shared!'

 

'I know of no Elizabeth!'

I said, with my conscience clear,

It's only a dream that returns to me

Whenever the stars appear!'

It pushed the planchette back and forth,

And the pencil spelt 'Alive',

Went back, repeated across the board,

'You buried me - Alive!'

 

I staggered out of the séance then

Got drunk on the way back home,

The name had impressed my consciousness

With a vision of flesh and bone,

A vision of curling, darling hair,

And eyes that brightly shone,

A bonnet of blue forget-me-nots,

And lips that had whispered, 'John....'

 

My name is Anthony Peter

I repeated, twenty times,

I'd never been known as 'John', although

The name of John - it chimes!

I went to a hypnotherapist,

And asked him to take me back,

To find if I'd lived another life

In the dim and distant past.

 

He put me out in a minute, sent me

Whirling back through the years,

Laughing and mostly crying, I

Remembered it all with tears,

And suddenly there was Elizabeth,

A famous lawyer's wife,

I was a poor accountant, but

I loved her more than life.

 

The lawyer was cruel and heartless,

His wife was a comely wench,

He'd wed the girl to impress the lords

And his cronies on the bench,

He slept with another mistress on

The darker side of town,

But wouldn't release her from her vows

If the heavens came crashing down!

 

We fell in love in a morning,

Would meet at a farmer's farm,

While he was off in his Chambers

We were out in the farmer's barn,

We wracked our brains for the answer

To steal her away from him,

We both agreed that the freedom bought

With death, was the only thing.

 

My friend was a brilliant chemist,

With his philtres, drugs and charms,

Who gave me a special potion

That would set up the first alarm,

Elizabeth would be as dead

As anyone could believe,

And while she lay in her coffin there,

The rest of us could grieve.

 

I paid for the grave to be dug myself,

By the family crypt of 'Stall',

He'd dig to a depth of six feet down

Placed right by the western wall,

Then I could tunnel from under the wall

And take her into the crypt,

While under the cover of darkness

We'd escape to our own retreat.

 

The plan was fine as a plan, it worked,

I'd bored two holes in the lid,

Plenty of air would get to her

For the length of the time we'd need,

I paid the digger to leave the hole

Uncovered for just a day,

By the time that he filled that empty grave

We'd be well on the King's Highway.

 

But then, just back from the funeral,

I looked for the potion jar,

I knew to get rid of the evidence

Before we had gone too far,

My hand, it slipped, the jar was smashed

It cut me along the wrist,

The potion covered my bloodied arm,

I was too weak to resist.

 

I lay as dead, to the gravedigger,

With none, he thought, to care,

So thought he would do me a favour then

By burying me with her there,

He dropped my coffin on top of hers

While she lay waiting for me,

Then heard me kicking and screaming there

And knew she'd never be free!

 

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

 

It took some time, but I found the crypt

And I hid for a night and day,

Chiseled away at the base of the wall

'Til the stonework came away,

The coffins were planted one on one

And I smashed the bottom one first,

Pulled the corpse from its hiding place

As it fell, old bones in the dirt!

 

And a sigh burst out in the fetid air

As a bonnet fell to the ground,

Covered in blue forget-me-nots...

But I heard a terrible sound!

A tap-tap-tap from the other box,

And a voice that I once knew,

'Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Oh Lord,

Please Lord, not you!'

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

YOU ARE THE MASTER INDEED! I was absolutely riveted to the screen, following each and every word, and holding my breath until the very end. The SciFi Channel has nothing on you. Your tales are at once endearing, morbid, and bittersweet.

As always, you amaze!

Linda Marie

[Doreen]

Beautiful and haunting, perfectly written. I love this piece.

[R J Askew]

Really enjoyed. A great moral on how things can go wrong, even when a stolen love is true. Yes, life a tragic mess. The poem is like a macabre novelle stripped to its g-string. I esp like the travel in the story from what might be the here and now to somwthing that cld be a story from Robert Louis Stevenson. It's cleverer than Capn Kreel, but I still prefer Capn Kreel, in part because the briny theme is truer to the ballad. But I do like this one also.

[emmajoy]

Poe Paget .. an amalgam of the great man's skill and that of DLP!

Like other reviewers the thought of being burried alive scares me to nightmares and have indeed suffered from them over the years .. not least after having a pile of straw bales fall on me when i was eleven or twelve!

Your skill is extraordinary, you use words and phrases like the best of writers of this genre .. yet somewhere lurking is a smile or two ..'Reader, are you trembling yet?!'

'It took some time, but I found the crypt And I hid for a night and day, Chiseled away at the base of the wall 'Til the stonework came away, The coffins were planted one on one And I smashed the bottom one first, Pulled the corpse from its hiding place As it fell, old bones in the dirt! '

What wonderful meter, what a wonderful story .. brilliant!

[Merlot]

Oh David, David, David...Hopefully we aren't punished in the present for sins committed in the past !!

[Ellen Hammond]

A gripping tale so well penned with your special flair. Your imagination is amazing as is your sense of irony. I am very claustraphonic and from childhood had a fear of being buried alive. I could feel the panic from the first line but couldn't stop reading if I tried. A great story in poetry as it grabs attention and holds it all the way through. Almost gave me a panic attack. LOL

[Lena M. P.]

Ok, number one, you touched on my biggest phobia so I nearly didn't read this. You scare me because you remind me of Edgar Allen Poe so much with your writings. Is nothing safe from the wicked pen of yours??? Another wonderful and frightening read.

[Ferg]

Alright, David, that is my worst nightmare! Being buried alive! And then, the plan went awry and both were buried alive! You've captured another bit of pharmacy in this piece as well.......Crafty and devilish and creepy all in one! Great writing!

[Valentine]

Beware of Dave Pagets fate...how true that review is..this is really a mind holder as one is reading..I first thought he was totally innocent..not having lived in a life before..but you bombed my thoughts again..You are the master of this kind of a write..God bless Mate and Happy New Year to you and Lyn there in warm Australia..your friend..Kathie

[Mark]

Adulterers! Deceivers! Flee where you will!
Dave Paget's about, your future bodes ill!
Murderers! Haters! Hide if you dare!
Dave Paget will find you, his pen's in the air!

'Neath the rim of his twelve-stanza'd wheel, you he'll crush,
Whether user, abuser, faithbreaker or lush!
Heed this lesson, maldoers, before it's too late:
You don't want the Paget to determine your fate!