Slipping From Light to Dark and Back Again

Anticipation…
Eyes glued to the frosted window pane
“Tis the dying of the light, I seek”
Focused on the fading horizon
Gauging the exact moment of the darkness
“Oh good brightness, farewell I say unto thee…”
And without fanfare, cheering, or salutations
Poof…gone to the other side
“Hideth over yon mountain, gentle sun…
And hidden ye shall remain until ‘morrow”
The night casts its blanket of nothingness, back again
Yet no fear exists, no danger apparent
“For the panes of glass which stand as sentries”
Perhaps no guards are necessary
Unless…
“Sounds of an entirely other world; cruel and soulless sounds”
And fear generates image after hideous image
Only the darkness offers the sanctity of not knowing
“For what doth the ink of midnight protect the living from?”
Away, further into the depth of the room
Eyes measuring the distance from tip to tale
As if the window might separate
“Falling, its shattering reverberating again and again”
A pathway unencumbered presents a conundrum
For if no one observed the glass falling and disintegration
“Can one say the shape, color, and size of the sound?”
Imagining the muffled nothingness of….well….nothing
Yet characterizing the moment seemed unlikely
“For that which matters, leaves no question of its urgency”
And further into the room; until the windows become curtains
And the curtains become colorful swaths of exotic fabric
Walls bursting with rare and hidden artworks
“Come forth oh beast within mine walls…face me!”
How should so many years have past without this reveal
What secrets lie beneath the depths of the fiberous floors?
Or twisted among the snaking wires of electricity
“Treasure, such fine treasure I’ve buried on me secret islands”
And yet further into the sucking depths of the room
Darkness playing the tricks of the night as the sound of steps
“Be gone oh night beguiler – nary a trick left in your repertoire”
And again the steps; sudden and without rhythm
Beside, behind, and above and beyond
“Noise of surrounding music! Giveth but another period of silence”
Yet, it continues
“Stop thine charade of acoustics! ”Tis a resting verse”
Further the dive into the darkest and furthest corner of the far room
Bones given over to the walls on each side; backed to corner
“And my last stand I make…here with nothing but darkness ahead
Darkness behind and free and idle hands waving about”
And the itching and distracting mosquitos
Remembering the taste of waterfalls in the mountains
Where as the moment slipped away too?
“Mind, slipping thoughts where once stability reigned!”
And in the confines of the iron cot
White linens appear as sails from an ancient sloop
“Take in oars and cast the sail! Open seas ahead!”
No compass, no sextant, for tonight we sail by starlight
And with waves crashing against the frame of the cot
Stiff winds from the east lifting the pillowcases
“Tack man! tack!”
Gone, then back again
The heavy leather straps hold fast
Wrists and ankles
Belts across the waist, chest, and thighs
“Man of the watch! Sound out our position!”
Morse eyes fluttering in never ending coded messages
Minutes turn to hours…
“Drop anchor…all stop…take…in…sai……
Exhaustion, and sleep
For a while…

authors note…

imagine the slow loss of mental faculties…the writer shouts aloud what he’s experiencing while somehow existing in a poem of his minds creation…where does the ending place him each day?

R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all.I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed.I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another.I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me.I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all. I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed. I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another. I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me. I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

4 thoughts on “Slipping From Light to Dark and Back Again

  • July 18, 2017 at 11:29 PM
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    “Tack man! tack!” – Whoa! that one short line took me way back to my sailing course days when I had to cross a huge lake in harsh winds in a sail boat. That was scary! Your entire poem is scary, Ralph, and so expertly penned. It seems to be the thoughts of one about to die from execution in a prison? and the mind is wandering. Trapped in a poem, how frightening that could be. Another masterpiece from you, dear poet. I love it.

    Reply
  • July 19, 2017 at 1:53 AM
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    So well penned and evocative Ralph, filled with emotive lines in a more traditional poetic language. I really enjoyed it .

    Reply
  • July 19, 2017 at 7:25 AM
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    The madness that ensues and threatens us all, the fear within of it, the very alone feeling, the mosaic of thoughts crossing our brain as we sink deeper. Yet one does not know until one is the victim of it, gripped in it’s gauntlet, seized with terror, convictions coming true. To be in that state of total collapse must be a terrifying experience for anyone. For those who have been through Hell and back again I can only imagine all what you pen here sir. You’ve painted Dante’s inferno in many ways. Yet when all hope is lost, the drugs pushed into our souls by the men in white, brings us closer to such a reality of hopelessness. Madness is a lonely world, I’ve often felt a tinge of it at times, somehow I withdrew always into the light, darkness loosening it’s grip on me before I slid deeper. So my friend, you’ve penned a style of your own with an expressive gift of soul. I pray you never have to live this experience you penned. However Steve Jobs they say his last words on his dying breath were. “Wow, wow, wow” makes us all wonder what he say before crossing over? Let’s pray that our maker does save many of our wretched souls, as Poe asked for on his last breath.

    Reply
  • July 19, 2017 at 10:59 AM
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    Excellent piece Ralph, upon reading the authors note I went back and reread it and got a greater understanding and appreciation as well. Nicely done

    Reply

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