The Letter Bird of Recurring Nightmares

 

I knew in sleep the beast would come,

And so I stayed awake too late.

My forest village lived to fear

My nightmares, clawing from their skies.

 

Beyond the lights of round-hut fires,

The Letter Bird had wasted worlds,

And screamed and stalked and hawked its prey.

It ripped at meat with metal beak.

 

They waited, huddled, through the night.

They heard its wings. I tried to wake,

And hoped, if not, their walls would hold,

And keep the Letter Bird at bay.

 

I rarely woke before it claimed

Another victim from my world.

 

 

for the prompt “Childhood Dreams” put up by

mindlovemisery link here… CLICKY

 

Creatures Beyond

 

Beyond the dramas of the town,

Outside the battleground of now,

The creatures, barely human, form

And question our complacent ways,

 

By simply being with the hum,

And spinning through the forest lanes.

By breaking and remaking whole,

By calling all the creatures home.

 

They nest their fictions in the earth,

Lay naked all their tales and truths.

They slip – revolting – from our grasp.

They drip – as fungus – from our pasts.

 

And bloated, we build roads and walls

And so much noise we drown their moans.

 

 

The Shadow Figures of the Vrsic Pass

 

I took the high road through the pass.

The rain and mist whisped round the pine,

Above the trees the clouds touched earth:

I saw the shadow figures there.

 

I moved towards them, they withdrew.

The shadow figures knew the tracks:

They knew them like the hazel grouse.

They padded lightly with the lynx.

 

I saw their faces briefly there:

Beyond the rock face, glaring down.

I saw their questions, wild and raw,

With human eyes and shadow souls.

 

The mists soon closed the Vrsic Pass:

The shadow figures melted back.

 

 

Morlock

 

The phosphorescence rolled the rocks,

In luminescent workings locked.

One more to hold within the walls,

One more to weld alone and tied.

 

Too fortunate, too blistered blue,

Too formed by broken will and rage.

One more for silent angers crushed,

One more for wasting, whipped and blocked.

 

Indoctrinated, sulphurous tears,

In violence, sated lusts and fears.

One more to twist and turn our way,

One more soft back to crack, then meld.

 

In green the glow of hollow earths,

In green the eyes and horrors stored.

 

 

The Barmanou

 

 

They shook the mountain caves at night,

They broke the boulders, cracked the cliffs,

They mocked the flags on sunrise snow,

They howled around the prayer wheels.

 

Then far beyond the mountain’s pull

A gentle chant, the plateaux’s thought,

Was caught in clouds and spiralled up

To join the Karakoram’s breath.

 

They stopped a while to hear the chant,

Put down their knives of Yengisar.

Then, furrow-browed, they went on back

To breaking wilderness and peace.

 

For all their noise, they heard the change:

They sensed the myths had rearranged.

 

Yeti

 

She plumps the furs to make them soft,

Then settles down to share her thoughts.

The image world of snow and rock

Soon takes her to the meeting place.

 

The children play outside the cave,

It’s cold, and bright, and leopard free.

Their voices echo through her dreams.

Across the valley mothers join.

 

One shows an ibex, one a storm,

They share their images and tales:

She visions children playing safe.

The mothers strengthen her embrace.

 

They all have seen the tears of life:

This mountain valley is their space.

 

 

The Panther Man

 

The shadows curl their lips and kiss

My silent feet. They keep me safe.

In light I weigh, but here I float:

Adrift in myths and hidden fates.

 

From here I watch you fight for space.

I see the endless paths you take:

You circle, paw, and spiral down.

You know I’m here: within, beyond.

 

I ripple through your flitting mind,

Just hinting at the shape of words.

A fire as dark as Saturn’s heart,

A trick of whispers, mist and night.

 

I pad these forest tracks alone,

A shadow soft in shadow’s hold.

 

 

The Almas

 

The Altai nomads sleep in skins,

And lay hot stones on melting snow.

We know the envy of their souls:

For generations we have watched.

 

Our altars pile from mound to moon,

To seasons of the thousand lives.

We touch horizons deep within:

Beyond the heart, beyond our time.

 

Beneath the grasslands work our roots.

Our feet kiss feet with mirror men.

We feed the sap of spirit pines.

We leave our skins on jagged rocks.

 

We raise our voices in the still:

The Altai nomads fade as dew.

 

 

The Atacama Humanoid

 

You called us dust and distant lands.

With sandstorm veil and mysteries bound,

With feet as sharp as cactus wren:

You claimed the stars, your hands were scarred.

 

Beyond the nitrate mine and cross,

You carried us to ocean’s scents,

To know the horrors of the edge,

To ask us how we bent the Earth.

 

We wept and tasted desert rose,

We shook beneath the condor’s wing,

We hid from caracara’s claw.

You called this home, this tear-stained sky.

 

We lived in fear of men and dogs,

For freedom begged the desert moon.