 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 22:21:12 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 159523
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => A Cornish Nightmare
[time] => 2010-05-04 13:56:22
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => A Cornish Nightmare I awoke in my bed the following morning, The sheets were drenched with sweat as too was I. The previous evening’s memories seemed to end at the abbey, And no matter how much I tried I could not recall the journey home. What I did remember was the beautiful girl with emerald eyes. Who was this girl who was the twin of my Melissa? As far as I knew she had no siblings, but there was a stirring in my heart. I knew that not only was she in mortal danger, her warning, That He was coming for her meant that Melissa’s soul was a prize, And someone intended, here and now, to rip it from my being. Breakfast at the guest house was hearty and welcome, For a brief moment I managed to take my mind off the previous evening. As I looked around I noticed the other diners, quiet, indeed unnatural, No-one seemed to be talking at all, just eating and staring blankly. My receipt for breakfast arrived and on the back one word, “Tonight”. I spent a troubled day but ventured forth when the moon was high. Approaching the abbey I once again saw the monk with no face. He turned to me and pointed toward the abbey and I steeled myself. In the undergrowth I could hear the rustling of animals or beasts, And from the darkness I could perceive piercing yellow eyes, watching me. As I approached the abbey I noticed the doors were open. From within lighted candles illuminated the scene and the pews were full. From the undergrowth a dog resembling a Rottweiller but with lizard-like eyes Approached me, its mouth revealing razor sharp teeth, its demeanour threatening. I walked toward the doors of the abbey and the beast followed, denying me an escape. I entered the abbey and viewed the bizarre congregation, all dressed in habits. As I looked down the aisle I saw the altar, upon which lay Melissa’s twin. She was naked and serene, unmoving but it was the figure behind her that threatened. In robes of black, his face obscured by a hood stood a man with a large dagger. I was grasped by the arms from both sides and heard the words:” It is time”. Alistair Muir 04/05/2010 [comments] => 2 [counter] => 143 [topic] => 31 [informant] => aliopterix [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com