Nocturnes: That Sound Is Only Wind Blown Over Old Headstones

In this closed, walled graveyard, I have been captured.

I walk among tbese toppled, broken stones.

Fear crushes me; all other feelings---numb.

Here lurk revived cadavers, without souls

(those that had souls of faith have long been raptured

out of this backroad, weed besotted place):

they crawl, after nightfall, out of their holes;

and chase after me with loud shrieks and moans.

No moon or stars enlighten this stark sky:

they have not been seen here for an untold age.

These corpses, animated by fierce rage,

pursue me with insidious compulsion.

Their rotting bodies bring me to revulsion.

Around me, they have gathered to condemn

my whole existence to this ghastly sentence----

that I, who died (am I dead?) have become

and will forever be like one of them.

Horrific prospect---no words fully tell

it; and I think this must be my own hell.

 

Starward

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patriciajj's picture

The title itself is an

The title itself is an accomplishment—opening the curtain with trembling drama and the sound of a menacing promise in our mind's ear. Then we are immediately held in the grip of an emotional cyclone scripted in the tradition of great classics but in your own riveting, signature style. 

 

I loved the savvy, unexpected word choices (ie "revived cavaders" instead of zombies) , and the full stop we came to when the question slammed us:  Am I dead? Is this hell? 

 

The meter reflected the throb of terror throughout the wild, infernal ride. Very effective. 

 

Also impressive was the intriguing effect of the title on the poem: the contradiction of the "loud shrieks and moans" while the title claims it is "only wind blown over old headstones" suggests something truly supernatural is happening here and the author is, indeed, of another world. 

 

I believe your poetic finesse extends to the macabre and the deliciously unnatural. I was mesmerized. 

Starward's picture

Thank you so much.  I have

Thank you so much.  I have had my doubts about this one, but your comment---coming from Postpoems' most major Poet---sweeos them all away.  Your comment also encourages me to perhaps try some other poem with this kind of ambience, and for that I am most grateful.


Starward

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