Serpentine darkness
entwining me in its leathery grasp
threatening to choke me out of
(into?) this billowy dream
compromising only with pure contemplation
allowing me to enquire the wet streets
once again in rags dirty with fatigue
of no peace, no capability
to lay my head down to rest
on this downy pillow of heather
when all I can hear is the serpent
hissing amongst the sweet birds' song.
Author notes
I woke up yesterday morning feeling like the dark was crushing me and I just couldn't get rid of the feeling so, naturally, it formed into words in my head (= I forgot about them but remembered them on the bus to school and I wrote this there and then.
I sincerely do not recommend writing on Maltese buses.
Written December 10th, 2004
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Comments
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Thanks ever so much for the comment, it's greatly appreciated. The image of "the serpent / hissing amongst the sweet birds' song." is actually one I came across in a T. Hardy novel (which he actually 'borrowed' from Shakespeare). It struck me so much that I wasn't able to get it out of my head and it just seemed to fit in this poem.
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A moving poem indeed i feel.
I see at the end of it one of my faveourite literary devices.
I have no idea what the name is (there probably isn't one) but i love it all the same:
"to lay my head down to rest
on this downy pillow of heather
when all I can hear is the serpent"
It shows us what we perhaps all most desire and then snatches it away, reminding us about the ever enticing hiss of the serpent.
Beautiful imagery i must say, especially rags dirty with fatigue
i have never heard that one and it is a delight to see people experimenting when it was easier to put "in old rags".
It is easy to tell from the poem that there is a lot of meaning behind what you have written all us humble readers can do is speculate what was on your mind at the time
Great write, thanks for sharing
Mr Scythe
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