They Wait

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From whence these apparitions came
I cannot say; I dare not think
Alight upon my window frame
In form, as birds, yet not the same

With talons curved and plumage preened
Observers, they appear to be
Such beady eyes may scarcely tell
but I will not be fooled so well

“I know your kind, oh wicked beast
In patience perched upon my sill
Expecting here to find some feast
But I am fine, and hardly ill

Away from here; away! Away!
No feasting will be done today
Remove and leave no trace behind
For nothing here is dead nor dying”

Yet, still this blackened gathering
Has marred my views and jarred my plans
As nightmares, somehow given wings
And so I sat for their demands

I spake into the lot of them
“What evil plot or tainted wind
Has brought you here to mock my rest?
If you have tongues, at least confess”

At length no answer they prescribed
And did but stare with ebon eyes
Yet, not at mine–below perhaps
Into my core and through my depths

A sudden jolt–a thought–a start
Impaled my wonderings with fear
These foul ghosts await my heart
The weakened beat of which they hear

From far below, the suffering
Of this, my spirit’s offering
A broken heart and bleeding love
Has called them out and up above

A netherworld I dare not name
Cacophonous, unholy lands
Had heard the deepness of my pain
And traveled here to see my end

But not my body do they crave
No flesh nor blood they hope to have
They hunger for my sanity
And this poor heart that beats in me

The brokenness within my chest
These demons seek to drink its blood
Of what I’ve bled, to take the rest
And wrest me of my dying love

So long upon my window’s base
With empty eyes and solemn face
They wait, despair for me to take
They wait to see if I will wake

And maybe they are justified
The scent of wounded heart to seek
Although my frame retains its pride
The warmth inside is far too weak

As I recline against the bed
They stand there on my window ledge
Unspeaking, but I feel their gaze
They wait to see if I will wake

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21 responses to “They Wait

  1. I really really like this one. It is so dark yet my emotions seem to mimic yours in this pain. Very creepy yet relate-able. Thank you for sharing, reminds me why I am scared of birds. I can just picture them swarming and starring me down in the night.

    • There is something about the eyes of a bird–almost unemotional and solemn. The crows especially, look always dressed for a funeral with a menacing macabre expression. Thank you for the kind words!

  2. That is just so wonderful, I love the words I love the metre I love the essence and I fear it too. I just wish I could write as well as you.
    A few years ago before I had a laptop I was using the computer up in what we used to call the office ( it is a guest room now for family) I noticed a Blue Tit who spent all his time at the window fluttering up and down or just tapping on the glass. This worried me immensely as I knew he should be getting a mate and building a nest or even just feeding. Instead he spent all day either in the willow tree opposite the window or at the window either seeing off a rival or courting a mate … both his reflection. I often think of him. I know “The Birds” at your window are a metaphor your your fears and black dreams. But I think there is a loose connect between and betwixt your poem and by bird. Be strong VW your heart is safe . you display it in your poetry. Have a good weekend . Thank you for such a wonderful post!xxxxx

    • Thank you, Willow. I remember when I first became avidly interested in birds, and the fascination I formed watching them–everywhere you go in life. Most people almost fail to notice them after a while. They say that the black birds in the inner city are very intelligent, and have learned how to use our society and technology to their advantage. Of course, if Alfred Hitchcock is right, we are all in trouble…

      And what is this “I wish” business. You write every bit as good as anyone could and I don’t think you have anything to regret about your style and writing. You do wonderful work. You craft whole stories, whereas I just write when I can spare the time in my day, and rarely very well. Thank you for the compliments 🙂

  3. I hear Shakespeare at the very least VW, and the tone is a wonderful ‘feel’ as I read. May the Taloned apparitions ne’er feast on thy direst thoughts and dreams … xPenx

    • Thank you! Writing gives me a chance sometimes to explain my feelings in an exaggerated metaphorical way that would probably sound ridiculous in conversation. Emotions always feel much stronger that it seems possible to convey when talking to someone. Writing lets me glamorize or demonize them a little deeper. It feels like an artistic way to whine sometimes 😛

  4. I like this one Vampire Weather,
    you always add such awesome
    poetry 🙂 I will be catching up my
    wickedly nice friend 🙂

    Have a lovely rest
    of Halloween Weekend 🙂

    Androgoth

  5. I must say your words do hold shadows of the great Edgar Allan Poe. Especially in the beginning when you were discussing “apparations”. Poe had many ghosts in his past that haunted him and you could sense that in his writing. This reminds me of it; the chilling stare from the “beady eyes” of the owl brings back memories of when I saw a movie version of his short story “The Black Cat”. This poem illistrates your use of dark and enchanting images.

    • Wow, thank you so much, Poet! I adored Poe from the moment I read his work. I have read through his poems repeatedly. There is such a tortured romance in his work–I envy that beautiful ability. I am honored by your kind words! So glad you stopped by to read and comment!

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