I created this piece during our last big hurricane. The lights were out and the storm was blowing outside; It put me in a very vulnerable mood and I used that to write this creepy poem. Originally I conceived it as being a part of a mystery/thriller novel that I have been thinking about the concept for lately. I was thinking that a major part of the discovery would come through journal entry poems found by the main characters. The problem is that I don't write genre fiction, so until I find a deeper theme among my ideas it's not getting written. SO... here stands this dark little poem with no greater work to be a part of, yet.
August 12, 1827: I awake from horrible dreams
and specters spy
on me from the dark
corners of this place? Hark,
no angel hath the gall to guard
a soul so stretched and stripped.
What is it then that
causes my mind to madden?
Silence still enough that echoes
of the past and future sound as sirens
in my poor
drums. Weary yet
from worry and soon regret,
but no, I cannot become as wrecked
as the wonton wretch who fills my head
Horrible horror: thoughts
meant for devils dreams, the brains
of imps and denizens of the deep dark
shall be my feast… For I have none left
with which to fight,
and my will diminishes
with the twilight grey. I fear
oh God that neither I nor they will last
until the blessed day redeems us in its copper tones.
By: T.J. Seale
Copyright 2008 Thomas Taylor