Tuesday, December 12

Poetry: Elegy Deux – Power of Suggestion

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Elegy

Pray tell how much longer is the drive from Dublin to Galway,

If you begin your quest mid the fading twilight hours,

When with every glow from distant furrow and blink at shade of grey,

Uncertainty spurs your heart to throb an anxious beat;

You feel a haunting presence perch ‘pon your passenger seat

As you scan the vacant road and studded sky lit with watchful stars?

The open road changeless in the halo from your dim car blinkers,

If the died, the moon would be your lonely, only guide.

Each threatening dust-devil and thundering loose shaving tinkers

With the cogs of reason that are hiking behind.

Suddenly images form in the dark recesses of your mind,

You fear even your mirror may reflect someone else inside.

Disturbing scenes from movies flash upon your inward eye

Of abandoned carriageways and a deadly still,

An invisible touch that spooks wild stallions as they stand by;

The highwayman, eidolon, the mystic stranger,

The faceless fears only you can define linger

With every conscious breath that sanity would kill.

There’s a knocking from within your heart, tapping, rapping at your cage

But with calming gasp and logic the knocking still persists.

Your meagre laugh gives knocking a thirst of unquenchable rage

Intense as blasting bullets, louder than tormented drum

Rear window, roof, boot, bonnet, door; from where does the sound come?

It’s here; it’s beneath you.  You scream then…silence.  Outside swirling mists

Seem to sooth your weary headlamps as your car dies in the night.

Glaring lights, red upon white, paralyse and beguile,

Disembodied shrieks tense every disabled muscle in spite

Of your primitive instinct to survive, to run

A knowing premonition, like roulette with a gun

Snaps your neck to gaze at the complexion of a juvenile.

With a fountain of blonde locks and enchanting eyes like deep pools

She stares sinisterly tranquil.

You struggle with your belt to save this child from the ghouls

And the piercing lights that are blinding

As you fight the pain that’s writhing

You clasp her hand and every bone shivers with a curious chill.

Then with wailful screeching of brakes

Foot hits the floor and driver takes

His last look in dazzled eyes,

Metal grinds and glass flies,

Debris crashes to the spattered road,

Vessels creak and futures explode,

Belated screams echo in the night,

As a licence plate spins, vehicles shudder with fright…

The lorry couldn’t have stopped as it swerved to avoid the car.

What possessed the victim to leave its safe confines?

Some say harbingers of death walk the earth, reminders of the slipping hour,

Omens fro beyond the grave for the living skeletons

Who connect in their twist of fate as mortality runs

At them like a battering ram of truth when life and death intertwine.

What power has suggestion?  Our senses explore the brink of the sane.

With the element of persuasion phantom fears manifest.

When trepidation of death knocks, memories flood in of both joy and pain.

Was this infantile spectre a desperate, stubborn prayer

To grip a future using her past which tricked her to tear

The final page and there abruptly end and will her spirit now find rest?

Pray tell how much longer is the drive from Dublin to Galway,

If you begin your quest mid the fading twilight hours,

When with every glow from distant furrow and blink at shade of grey,

Uncertainty spurs your heart to throb an anxious beat;

You feel a haunting presence perch ‘pon your passenger seat

As you scan the vacant road and studded sky lit with watchful stars?

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