Titus the Dog is selling tickets for the Poetry Bus this week, and the destination is the zoo. This Wise Old Bird is not on her list, and will be quite happy riding on the roof-rack . .
It was me he hunted,
wheeling over fields and trees,
to invade the backwaters of dreams,
invade the very eaves,
to invade the backwaters of dreams,
invade the very eaves,
trailing the screech
that plucked me, quaking,
from my sleep.
It was me he wanted.
He was no wise old friend.
I pulled the sheets of dread
about my ears. I probed
my room's four corners
for his white shape, aghast
at bonecrack talons
in my rafters, white wings draped,
lunar eyes fixed on my head,
steel beak agape. Would he impale
a mere child in his bed?
It was me he haunted.
The whole house lay asleep.
He knew my fears and I
his place. Could he not keep
to that bleak steeple where he blinked
among rusty bells, ropes, bones,
murmurs of the dead,
and let me keep
such terrors for my dreams?
I must not shriek.
I must not shriek.
Oh, Doctor! Such delicious internal rhymes and throbbing rhythms! I like this poem very much. "Lunar eyes" and "bonecracked talons" ~ wonderful. The closer and closer sound of the owl as he hunted, he wanted, he haunted... very mature work. The repetitious shriek. I'm suitably chilled by that.
ReplyDeleteCome see my Poetry Bus animalia.
The Goddess’s Daughter
Thank you so much, Enchanted Oak. I went straightaway to see your P.B contribution . . and I will comment on your blog when the Bus drives off tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteMy thanks, Dr FTSE.
ReplyDeleteChilling. Especially the last stanza. It may be a poem in itself
ReplyDeleteCaptures a small child's terror but with adult words...
ReplyDeleteJinksy . . an interesting observation. It is a childhood incident remembered, so maybe the adult words are acceptable in the context?
ReplyDeleteNaturally - I never meant to imply they weren't acceptable. If anything, they've added the demension of time to the whole thing...a link between then and now...for they underline how deeply the original fear etched itself into your memory.
ReplyDeleteVery much enjoyed the hunted / haunted / wanted semi-rhyme repetition and that keep to that bleak steeple assonance. A powerful piece of work.
ReplyDeleteWell I won't sleep easily tonight - you've lured me into your fright quite easily. Especially those last two lines - shiver!
ReplyDeleteWell, that's taken all the Harry Potter out of it, for sure! I loved "bonecrack talons" and the whole sinister lot. Beatiful language throughout.
ReplyDeleteYou captured that haunting fear of child at night perfectly.
ReplyDeleteSorry, Doc. I never comment on my own poems.
ReplyDeleteOH! The roof rack is no place for this gem.
ReplyDeleteGoodness another scary poem but you did it so well and like @Argent I too thought of Harry Potter's Owl. Quite sinister.
ReplyDeletecheers, parsnip
Your assonance is just fantastic, Doctor. Worked out, I guess, syllable by syllable, word by word and line by line. I liked particularly the "a's" between
ReplyDelete"shape" and "draped" where these two rhymes enclose the succession of short a's "aghast", "bonecrack", "talons","rafters".
Lucy, thank you. I just hope it doesn't sound worked out.
ReplyDeleteKat . . again, thanks. As with my answer to Lucy, I hope they sound effortless.
Ah, I'd like to see that know it all bird put in his place. :) We have one that likes to begin conversing at 3 a.m....and all the other owls in the neighborhood chime in. This would be the down side of country life...bird party lines. :)
ReplyDeleteReally enjoyed this!
Lovely words. I could almost see the owl and feel what the child felt.
ReplyDeleteVery powerful.. you've got the essence of this bird down to its last claw.
ReplyDeleteTouched off memory of another poem 'The Owl Critic'.
This just flowed and I felt I was there in that room under the covers, cowering. Beautiful, beautiful.
ReplyDelete