Nightmares Happen

sometimes they feel so real

   My heart is pounding. Cold sweat runs down my forehead. The muscles in my legs are knotted into painful cramps. Adrenalin courses through my system I am wide awake. Glancing up at the clock I note that it is three am. The dream woke me again. No not a dream...this was a nightmare. 

   This time the foul thing grabbed me from behind before I even realized it was there. One minute I was looking out a window taking in the days beauty and then the next thing I knew, the beast was ripping big chunks of flesh from my arms as I struggled in vain to fight my way free. There was no warning. No ominous background music to mark it's presence. It was just suddenly there.  I could smell its odor of decay mixed in with the rich coppery bouquet of my splashing blood. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a whisper of sound, a sigh of despair, of anguish. 

   This has been the most violent attack to date but not the scariest. I well remember the first time all those months ago. I woke up to pitch blackness, a heavy weight upon my chest, it's essence filling my nose and mouth with the taste and smell of rotten meat. Bewildered I tried to get up, but could not. I struggled to work my way free of the invisible weight only to be rewarded by it's sullenly staring eyes inches from my own. The red rimmed orbs lit from within made my heart stutter in my chest, I felt an intense panic even as I fainted from the shock. When I regained consciousness, it was gone, leaving my poor body bruised and sore.

   I don't know what this thing is, where it might have originated from. It's little more than a curdled black shadow with glaring eyes filled with hunger and hate. It has a huge mouthful of curved daggers for teeth. The monsters flesh is cold to the touch, like something dead. I don't think this thing ever wore human flesh. It's not some human come back from the dead. It's got to be something worse, far, far worse than just a ghost. Whatever it is it feels so real.

Lost

Lost and alone.

Traveling a dark path
through the unknown.
No moon to light my way.
Strange noises all around.
Heart pounding in fear,
palms sweaty,
mouth dry,
Ready to run...
Something is out there
in the deep shadows
of absolute darkness.
I hear it breathing
harsh and ragged,
somewhere close by.
I freeze unable to move,
afraid to breathe,
almost wetting myself in terror.
Praying to a deity
without any faith.
Something brushes by me.
It is huge,
much bigger than me.
I can feel it's presence
larger than life.
Gasping in panic,
hair lifting upright,
I back away
too late!
It grabs me,
pulling me into its embrace.
My heart skips a beat.
I feel faint.
It's lips brush my ear,
whispering careless secrets.
Sending shivers
like lightning bolts
down my spine.
Gulping back tears
I try to push it away.
Hollow laughter
my reward.
It drags me away
kicking and screaming,
back to the dark place
where nightmares are born.

                      

After the heat of summer comes the cold

After the heat of summer comes the cold.
Season's bridged by fall's cool Picasso sprawl.
No! Don't bother...I will not be consoled!

Blooms fading away, tragic to behold.
Shorter days and longer nights takes its toll.
After the heat of summer comes the cold.

Summers glory by autumn is extolled.
Kaleidoscopic leaves of color fall.
No! Don't bother...I will not be consoled!

Behind this show winter waits to unfold.
Soon ice and snow will hold us in their thrall.
After the heat of summer comes the cold.

Cannot the sunny season be paroled?
What deity must I award a call?
No! Don't bother...I will not be consoled!

Cruel winter’s arctic freeze needs put on hold.
Its bitter icy season soon will maul.
After the heat of summer comes the cold.
No! Don't bother...I will not be consoled!

   I woke up this morning to magic.

   Overnight a thick bank of fog moved in. It erased the boundaries of my small world.Somehow this made it seem more intimate rather than more confining. I felt that I was on an island in the middle of the sea of man. With only myself to keep me company.
   I could hear the distant sounds of traffic but not see the road. Unseen birds chirped and whistled among the heavily misted trees. Tree frogs sang in chorus around an invisible pond. A fish splashed somewhere nearby...the fountain chuckled and I jumped at the heavy thunk of a small branch as it dropped on the roof of my mobile home. I swear I heard the snort of a possible unicorn followed by the light tinkle bell laugh of a fairy.
   My attention was captured instantly and I spent some long moments out there on my porch, drinking in the exotic sights and sounds of the morning...I could feel the fog caressing my skin with a tingling coolness. I heard the soft sigh of it as it eased it's way between the limbs of a nearby tree. I felt the pressure of this nearly invisible being as it wrapped me tightly in its embrace. I could picture this benign being as it gathered me up enticing me to join it in it's dance.
   I went back inside with some reluctance. Knowing that all to soon the rising sun would burn away the morning magic revealing the grim reality that lay beneath. This following is a poem written about another foggy morning. It's in my book "Overgrown Garden," a collection of nature poetry, now available as an e-book on Amazon for $4.99. Enjoy.

Fog

Foggy day. Foggy night.

The worlds been wrapped in gossamer.
Enraptured and captured,

I stare in startled awe.
Trees are wrapped in misty threads,

dancing to the tunes trapped in their heads.
White starry eyes pierce the veil,

revealing the neighbors daily trek.
To a far off land where work is king,

I hear their motors cough and creak.
In the distant cover a tomcat snarls,

In answer another screams.
Their clash is revealed in bits and threads,

through fog drifting softer than a dream.
White ghostly fingers caress my face.

Cool fingers touch my soul.
Shivers of delight race down my spine,

and play tug-of-war with my toes.
I creep reluctant back to my smoky lair,

fog dust sparkling on my hands.
And recover lost senses,

Left in the fairyland of fog.

Autumn

the changing season

   Florida doesn't have an autumn, we stay green for most of the year. There are no beautiful leaves to take photos of. The changes are minimal. It cools down just a little and we lose some of the humidity. There are fewer thunder storms, and more cold fronts moving through.  

   Down here it's either the wet season, or the dry season. Sure, some trees will drop their leaves during the dry season, but it isn't pretty. Most winters are mild, there is no ice or snow, no freezes, no sleet, nothing to suggest that it's late December, let alone indications that fall has arrived.

   This makes it a challenge to write poems about the season. I have to rely heavily on my imagination as well as ancient memories of seasons past.

Leaves

Wind
blowing
moving leaves
across the road
covering the ground.

Autumn colored leaves
red and orange
now faded
floating
down.

Soft
carpet
rustling loud
beneath my feet
I reach for my rake.

Trees reaching skyward
exposed branches
shivering
missing
clothes.

Change
occurs
intervals
marking seasons
soon winter will come.