The Pen

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: 'The Odd Ones'

Trapped within a prison created by man. Trapped within a prison created by yourself. Facing the ugliness of death and the uncertainty of life. Struggling to remain a person.

The Pen

I sit alone at night by the sill

the cool air hanging still

with the right kind of chill

the hairs on my arms raise in a shrill

force that sends my senses climbing to the hills.

The Poe waits patiently for its next passenger of the road,

The Passenger waits patiently for the Poe to spring the goad.

 

The clock chimes twelve times while their hands reached through the cell

the mind drifts away into the abyss before the break of day.

The rattle of the cages stirs awake their sleeping patients

and the eyes stare, forever watching, never blinking.

Haunting!  Haunting!

Reflections, inflections, humility of the naive

all circling around the well of gravity.

 

So it's swallowed, we're hallowed, our lives are stripped away

the day drags on and the light continues to fade.

We're friends to the alloy that keeps us safe at night.

We're carcasses to the garbage men.  They stack our bodies high.

 

These premonitions are derived

from the self-inflicted cuts that I've

dug into my skin for life

with the help of a warm fire and a sharp knife.

A glass of water half-full sits on the table now,

a glass of water half-empty falls and shatters on the ground.

 

My memories fade like a body to the grave

we are no ego, no right, just the cold floor and a night.

We have no heartbeat.

We live a second-rate life.

 

I've drift away too slowly

insanity has its hold on me

a servant I am lowly.

Lo and behold the gift has been bestowed to thee.

Hand in hand the mourners rejoice in their searing praises

the echoes of descendants break their vows.  The promise erases.

 

The clock chimes twelve while their hands reached through the cell

the mind drifts away into the abyss before the break of day.

The rattle of the cages stirs awake their sleeping patients

and the eyes stare, forever watching, never blinking.

Haunting!  Haunting!

Reflections, inflections, humility of the naive

all circling around the well of gravity.

 

The bell tolls, an echo flanks the cityscape

the cry of a man at the end of his last day.

Darkness falls, the lights dim to black

my body is ravaged, my soul tormented.  There's no coming back.

 

I'll never return again, I'll never leave the pen.


Submitted: July 15, 2015

© Copyright 2022 Jeff Bezaire. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Mark Jansen

Beautiful poem. I can see a strong influence of Poe.
I need to add that I wanted to respond to your comment on my story Ed's Moment but I mistakenly hit submit before I wrote my comments. I'm glad that I checked out your poetry and intend to read more of what you have.

Tue, July 21st, 2015 11:29am

Author
Reply

Thank you for the read and the comment, Mark. Hope you enjoy my other work.

Tue, July 21st, 2015 8:00am

Criss Sole

I thought this was wonderfully written. You have such talent.

Tue, July 28th, 2015 9:29am

Author
Reply

I appreciate it. I always love the encouragement and responses. Thanks, Criss!

Tue, July 28th, 2015 10:50am

Abysinnia

This reminds me of Dylan Thomas! Nice work, your repetition is really effective.

Wed, August 26th, 2015 2:23pm

Author
Reply

Thank you very much for the read and comment, Abysinnia.

Wed, August 26th, 2015 7:40am

bobthebuilder

Very good imagery and quite a few striking lines. Overall really well done!

Sat, September 19th, 2015 4:45pm

Author
Reply

Thank you, Bob! I appreciate the read and your comment.

Sat, September 19th, 2015 10:13am

Desilu

Not really my favourite genre,but this is very well written.Some lovely little gems scattered in it.
Dee.

Thu, October 22nd, 2015 3:20pm

Author
Reply

I appreciate you taking the time to read it. Thank you. :)

Thu, October 22nd, 2015 10:02am

jmurch

I love the Poe references. I also love the way you free wrote the piece, but you did it in a classic way like the above mentioned master. I could see your mastery of word play in the piece above. You weave your prose like a spider in its web. Your vocabulary is strong but mostly, I like how you make this poem move like a waterfall as it makes you seek answers in the why of how each part comes together, a vivid jigsaw. This piece is unique and original. I love when new school meets old school creating fresh breeze in a stale market. The flavor of this poem is a fresh kiss to read. Thank you, my friend of the pen. Your writing voice is crazy strong.

Mon, November 30th, 2015 1:00am

Author
Reply

Thanks! I actually wrote this poem back in high school some thirteen years ago. I was a lot angrier back then and still shaping into an adult, so I think my confusion, anger, happiness, loneliness and general black sheepness added some strong flavouring to my written works back then. I definitely "saw" my poems more vividly than I do nowadays. Now, my poems come more from my philosophical heart.

Sun, November 29th, 2015 5:17pm

Rose Burg

Really liked the second stanza! Very well written and a very clear Poe-esque feel to the piece :) - Rose Burg xx

Wed, December 9th, 2015 1:25am

Author
Reply

Thank you very much! It's funny, because of the Poe reference, everyone refers to Edgar Allen Poe with this piece and how similar it is to his work. In actuality, the Poe is in reference to a ghostly spirit, but I'm glad people think this has a Poe-esque quality! He was a brilliant writer! :D
Thank you for you kind compliment, Rose!

Tue, December 8th, 2015 6:06pm

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