Somnium Mortis

Chimera Poetry

Somnium Mortis

“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come..” ~ William ShakespeareHamlet

The fear rises sharp and clear
scented on the air as I approach
 and bend to
gaze fully into your face for the first
and last time
it’s always fear
 like a glissando 
on a harp in a vast and empty room
fear always fear
when I am perceived in fullest mystery
when I first draw near 
You, who have extended every invitation, who pursued me ardently
now shrink back
am I not beautiful? Not desirable?
perhaps my kiss seems cold but burns only briefly 
the frost will pass and sleep will come
 then the gates swing open
and we will walk in the twilight 
watching the shadows form dark gardens
 and there is beauty and meaning to be found here
I am so much more than just a devourer
I am a prophet…

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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