the night

the night by phil burns

the night by phil burns

each evening the sun goes down
shadows move and pain hits deep
that’s when I face my inmost fears
and evade the clutch of sleep

I lie awake avoiding dreams
I pray dawn will be here soon
I know the nightmares linger still
on the dark side of the moon

the darkness drifts into my heart
I anticipate the fright
from crannies slither nameless beasts
who live and breathe the night

I huddle with wide open eyes
seeking the purity that saves
but grass and earth are thrust aside
as children leave their graves

all this I see but now I sense
black spectres’ putrid breath
the misery that feeds my life
keeps me from blessed death

I pay the price for long past sins
when I marched with Satan’s horde
there is a price for every soul
I reap my just reward

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5 Responses to the night

  1. bonniehofkin says:

    I’m so glad you are writing fiction Brian!
    Sharp synapse of imagery. The painting by Phil goes beautifully with the poem. Saluting you both.


  2. emmylgant says:

    In the progression of frightful images the poem evoques, it becomes hard to breathe normally through the end.
    …but grass and earth are thrust aside/ as children leave their graves… Very powerful and disturbing.
    Et comme d’habitude, la force de l’ecriture est dans ce qui n’est pas dit et le rythme que tu maintiens. Chapeau… avec frissons d’angoisse!


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