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Array
(
[sid] => 173906
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Totland Bay
[time] => 2012-09-29 14:05:12
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Where stillness calls and time echoes and weary limbs find rest. Where darkness falls and flesh is sheltered save only the sound Of blustering storms and crashing waves, protected and relieved Travellers takes refuge in the confines of an attic. A confine of History filled with life since Victoria, where bricks like Absorbent sponges draw in sustaining breaths and hold The essence of those who pass, pass through time, live their lives And leave behind their energy. Present flesh is weary and seeks the solace of peaceful slumber, but Senses, finely honed are stirring into painful consciousness And skin begins to bristle, then is the battle of the mind and body, for the mind Denies the presence that fills the flesh with leaden foreboding, that lines its defences with disbelief ,immobility, frozen in awareness, weighted in Fear, for there is, a presence and there is, no rest! And there are prayers to the angels to surround them with light,chants to bring peace from the terror,and a longing for the welcome light of day, for this torment that keeps pervading the room with deepening anguish draws breath deeply to Feed its anger, in the hours of darkness fills every corner with the Heaviness of unrest, who turns stomachs with the bile of all that Should not have been,He is your welcome. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 177 [topic] => 13 [informant] => northernlights [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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