Grook Fear Poems | Grook Poems About Fear
These Grook Fear poems are examples of Grook poems about Fear. These are the best examples of Grook Fear poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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is not to doubt.
It just means
NOTE: I was inspired by Paul Callus's and Eileen Manassian's comment, on my poem, The Stars Remain Silent.
O' so you are lost?
alone, frail, and tossed?
I see you there
threaded and bare
yet you walk along my twisty road
Are you not afraid lost boy?
Are you mad with the fever?
Know you not that this leads down to the River?
The river, the river of tears from lost little boys
where they float along, dead as dead little toys?
You are lost little child
alone among my skeletal wild
the wood and the snakes
the fears and aches
and you, just a lost boy, know nothing
O' yes, I see
you have no fear of me
But I am Death
I eat your breath
do you not fear me?
"No. I am lost alone.
But you lay no claim to my flesh and bone.
For I am not just a little boy?"
O' you are not?
then what are you, lost little boy.
Alone in my wood
in bed you be you should
"I am not at the end of my rope.
My name is Hope."
Ah. then you are not mine.
For the first time
since the end of Summer,
Mr. Nobody wears his socks to bed,
a sad admission that
things were going to get worse.
Can't count on the
warmth of mother nature's breast
to keep his mammalian nature intact.
When he wears his socks
and he pulls the thin duvet and the
extra purple woven Dacron blanket
up over himself he feels
warm enough to sleep.
The cat, Missy, who sleeps on his bed
wants to go out. This is Mr. Nobody's worse fear,
like a fear of urination
a fear that keeps him from resting.
Mr. Nobody throws off the blankets, rises,
swings his legs over the side of the bed
and rests his feet on the cold wood laminate floor.
He shuffles to the door
Opening the back door, he feels
the dread of the betrayal.
Missy scoots out.
Now, before he can sleep, Mr. Nobody has to remember
to find her and let her in again, realizing now that
William, the male cat had been let out earlier.
He will have to recover them both.
Mr. Nobody doesn’t know why he cares so much
about the discomforts of the cats.
He doesn't know if they suffer the terrors
of the failing pact with nature as much as he,
probably they do not.
Mr. Nobody returns to bed, pulls the cover-sandwich package
over his legs then over his chest. He rests,
planning to rise in an hour to go out and find the cats.
Mr. Nobody is certain that when he calls the cats
after an obligatory time
they will agree to follow him,
almost as if they know what's
good for them.