SOMETIMES AT NIGHT

When one person's night sneaks in to invade another's

There’s a whisper in my pillow where my sleeping eyelids rest,

The whisper of a lover and a sound I love the best,

It emanates from dreamland where the purple pixies play

And men make love to women every single livelong day…

There’s a breathing in the night-time that brushes onto me,

A breathing warm and fragrant, like wild winds across the sea,

And I reach a nervous finger through the mists of broken sleep,

And for a fractured moment my heart gives quite a leap…

And I’m running through a forest and the wind is like a ghost,

A spirit made of moonlight, a moving, rapturous host

And I toss and turn and fidget as a demon rushes past,

A black-eyed evil demon, gross and grey and fast….

The rumbling earth erupts like a Krakatoan night,

It fills my monstrous dreaming with its burning and its light,

I search my world for freedom but there can be no escape

From the all-devouring monster with a planetary shape….

Trees crash like giant matchsticks on the forestry floor,

They hurl splinters to the heavens with a mighty whoosh and roar

And I duck and dive and panic but it’s all to no avail,

The moon above is winking and he’s fading and he’s pale.

But the whisper in my pillow as the night begins to fade

Is the sound of bubbling rivers or fizzing lemonade,

And I open eyes a moment, I stare at what I see,

The angel of my dreaming a-snoring next to me!

Reviews

[paperfox]

'And I’m running through a forest and the wind is like a ghost,
A spirit made of moonlight, a moving, rapturous host'

This is poetry in its most poetic form. I know this is the real deal ... cos I KNOW! ... it is beyond contestation.

Peter ... you keep upping the game! ... You outdid yourself!!

[Peter Rogerson]

Poetry is odd stuff that doesn't so much need a poet because it seems to write itself.

[Country boy183798]

Vividly beautiful! I honestly enjoyed every bit of this poem. I like your choice of words and the way you've made them so tangible. I could almost feel them as if I was standing on the top of a hill looking at this mesmerizing vista of wonderful imagination.
Well done and thank you for sharing!

[Peter Rogerson]

I'm glad you appreciated it. Thanks.

[Vatsal Rohilla (account..]

Wonderful, sir, wonderful. Your poem is very engaging and the last line brought a smile on my face. I am glad you shared this work of yours.

[Peter Rogerson]

Thanks for your review. By the way, you can call me Peter. I'm not a sir!!!!

[Vatsal Rohilla (account shifted)]

In that case I will call you Peter.