Friday, August 24, 2012

Ship of Bones



The thought came to me while driving, and the details materialized in writing very quickly.  This poem does explore a question through the genre of horror, as the title suggests.  The question is, if we each are not doing the unique and special things we can do, are we truly alive?

How could I awake,
If I am never asleep?
Can the nightmare end,
When it never began?
Underneath a sullen sky,
The sun is never setting,
A glowing red eye,
The sun is never blinking,
Always staring,
Staring at me,
Alone on the sea,
Upon a dead ship,
Trapped in still waters,
Trapped and not sinking,
The sun is not blinking,
The glowing red eye,
Is always staring,
Staring at me,
Yet I am in company,
They are with me,
But they do not move,
They always look at me,
With eyes long gone,
Always smiling,
No flesh to hide teeth,
Skeletons bleached white,
Populate this ship,
While the sun keeps staring,
Never blinking,
And I can not hear sound,
As if in a dream,
I can not hear sound,
Though I try to scream,
Nothing happens,
As into reflections,
Of broken glass,
I look to see,
What could be wrong,
I look and see,
My eyes long gone,
My mouth is open,
But far too wide,
And hanging low,
On thinning hide,
With bones protruding,
From tattered skin,
Up from behind me,
I see a grin,
Hand on my shoulder,
And hollowed face,
He comes to show me,
Unto my place,
With words of comfort,
Spoken so near,
"Come float forever,
We all float here."
Then from the horror,
Within this dream,
I awake in darkness,
From my own scream,
Then thinking well,
Into the night,
I saw that ship,
Alive in life,
With people whom,
Forgot to live,
And share the gifts,
Which they could give,
God gave us skills,
Wisdom and tact,
For in our lives,
We all must act,
To bring forth beauty,
Alive and true,
We all must do,
                                                                     What we can do.