Somnambulist

 

Somnambulist  

The thing that follows moonlight gloom

Skulks at night in this solemn tomb

Risen from rest like a corpse exhumed

From a crypt where astrals wallow   

Like a strange pale flower in nocturnal bloom

It drifts down halls and floats through rooms

Gleaming in the night like an old heirloom 

It's eyes are dead and hollow 

In a gruesome pose it's long limbs grasp

Reaching out into the murky pallor

While the gentle souls of the sleeping gasp

In the torpid throes of nightmare squalor

It's cry intoned is not a mortal weeping

It’s not the rending wail of an orphan grieving

It's not the rural legend of a banshee shrieking

Or the rippers harlot in an alley screaming

It’s a leaden woe, a muted heaving

A silent song that’s always repeating

A stifled sob from the depths of dreaming

An ache of sorrow that sighs when sleeping  

The nights are filled with terror and sadness

Tormented by ghosts of bygone gladness

Eloped to the specter of death and madness

Whose black wings fly on the scorched horizon  

Nervous ganglion wrought and frayed

In outer dark the gnashing night beasts bayed 

The supple skin of silence flayed

By the sluggish steps of a languorous thing

From beneath a boggy cloak of wool

Comes the croak of a wayward skulking ghoul
Who stalks the shores of nightfall's pool

Where the epoch man of sorrow sings

 

It always comes back

On it’s midnight tryst

Moon chaser, blasphemer 

Somnambulist

 

 

Reviews

[Christy the Poetic Hear..]

Your fancy words flow beautifully. Nice and wonderful writing!!!!