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Sleepless in Whereis Part 1

Terry O'Leary Avatar Terry O'Leary - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Sleepless in Whereis Part 1 which was written by poet Terry O'Leary. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Sleepless in Whereis Part 1

I’m stealing through a twilit realm, the ancient pale of Whereis, passing chambers of an Heiress (though no need to feel embarrassed) through a magic mystic mirror hanging curtainless. A glimpse down naked alleyways (denuded by the moon) ex- poses Ghosts in gauzy tunics carving symbols, round and runic, in distended dingy dungeons of uncertainness. In misty streets of cobblestone – ancestral avenues – patchwork paths consume my shoes (chasing foggy curlicues twisting, twirling by in twos, floating anywhere they choose), forming smoky retinues to the footprints that confuse of the threaded wooden sticks that stalk a Puppet wandering. Condensed in drops of fantasy, distilled in evening dew, shifting Shadows I pursue (wearing faces I once knew), faint and fading from my view midst the treasures in review – lost! no stars to guide me through Awful Towered residues in the visions of the painted past I can’t help pondering. Contorted candelabra claw the skyline’s walled suspension, caught in twilight’s intervention – still unlit (in stark dissension), therefore seething with a tension, in the quiet apprehension of the Watchman’s inattention to the night-time’s bold pretension to her power, not to mention, to her hyperspace extension (far beyond my comprehension of the sundown’s black dimension) – On exhausted beaten boulevards of foolish fretfulness. Oblivion depletes me, voiding haste and hurried hassles, me, a simple abject vassal, trailing moonlit floating castles, – fickle feet, but fingers facile grasp at straws and dangling tassels – as I stumble through the rubble of forgetfulness. I think I must be dreaming as I seem to see these things, neath a sky alive with wings of a Nightingale that sings, midst the whispered murmurings soughed by Phantoms clad as Kings pacing palaces in rings, while their hapless footfall clings to the sagging sinking sands of midnight’s splattered castled ruins. Entangled in the swirling leaves that spin in dizzy flurries, (while the wind beside me scurries, and a hermit Ermine hurries) lurk my sleepy woes and worries (glowing faint’ but growing blurry) which, when plundered by the demon dusk, I’d left behind me strewn.
Continued in Part 2

Copyright © Terry O'Leary

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  1. Date: 12/15/2012 11:08:00 AM
    gosh, this is so descriptive, Terry. And feels truly like a dreamworld.

  1. Date: 11/8/2012 11:10:00 PM
    Love the line "caught intwilight's intervention"---:D:D Such profoundness to your imagination! I can't wait for the next part of this glorious piece. Always, Laura

  1. Date: 11/4/2012 2:19:00 PM
    awesome write, Terry - will now read part 2

  1. Date: 11/2/2012 6:59:00 AM
    Already working on it but it will take a while . Thanks another brilliant write xx

  1. Date: 11/2/2012 5:31:00 AM
    Terry, i read this as i would watch it being played out, a fantasy of dreams,,, you are so good at this type of poetry, actually amazingly good... going to part 2