The Nightmare Man leapt away with
the morning wind,
a wailing child tucked
beneath His spidery arm.
how you slobber sweet
over your succulent prize's
her mortal dangling charms.
In the dim grey of light,
I hear an echoing phantom laughter
as it ripples a wide swath
across the summerlake.
Carrying waves of last eve's darkness.
His gnarled whisper-fingers
grasp at dawn's dewy wake.
The Nightmare Man so soon fast-fading
in the ashen morn's fragile light.
As now He tries vainly to vandal
what He may never-keep:
Sweet Beauty, Peace and
Small Innocence of Breathing Life.
(Though He may desire to gobble-grasp
with all His burning-might.)
With one final wheezing rasp
His daunted voice cries out
snarling, breaking, then to weep.
Alas, the Nightmare Man
dissolves to silvery dust
which dutiful Daylight Faeries
gather up to sweep.
And when the wee child resumes
her untroubled rest,
she turns onto her resilient side,
she tumbles back gently
into the morn's second mumble-sleep.
COPYRIGHT June 18 2015/ at 2:50 pm All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Meloo./Melissa A Howells Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
All Ideas/Rants/Poetry/Prose are the Explicit Legal Property of This Writer
June 30, 2015 re-edited. 4:46 re-edited again July 1, 2015
Thank you kindly for reading....
Note...there are invented words in this poem. They are intentional
I do a lot of word inventing. Deliberate compound words made and words
hyphenated. I believe in breaking rules and making my own.
Footnote: It was not until recently, that is the Modern Age that people
slept through the entire night. With the advent of the Iron Horse and
the Industrial Revolution our sleep habits change. Before people woke
in the middle of the night to get things done and then woke again in
the morning to start their day. Life was just more productive that way.
That was the natural rhythm of life.
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