The Night

Poem By William Richards

The muffled boom, boom, boom,
the soundtrack to the ghosts behind my curtains,
chasing shifting shadows across my silent room.

Perhaps I should ask them to chase the shadows from my mind,
and all the thoughts it unwillingly retains,
the assassins of sleep I'd rather leave behind.

In silence, every sound however slight,
sabotages sleep, returning us to worldly domains,
and all the desperate darkness of the night.

And so I lie, and tune my ears to the cemetery owl's call,
the thud, thud, thud, from a passing car, a rumbling late night train,
the all too familiar refrain of a city night fall.

I turn, and turn, and turn on the radio, the early morning show,
and as dawn darts in and out of the waving curtains,
I finally find a cool, soft spot on my badly battered pillow.

Too late to sleep, too tired to think, too early to rise,
another day ahead filled with things uncertain,
the only challenge left to me now, is opening my eyes.

Comments about The Night

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of RICHARDS

Mourning Shadows

Sudden March winds carry high black
birds drunkenly across the blue grey above
the dark line of snaking cars below,
between the bending trees and sullen grass,

Revenge

I gave you my heart
and you took it from me.
I paid for the ring, and the church, and the house,
you gave me that smile,

Flowers

I bought her flowers.
Not the bright, multi-coloured kind,
like the colour of my love for her,
but the subtler shades of cream and white,

War Of The Words

Come Battalions of B's and Divisions of D's,
Infantries of I's join with Companies of C's,
form ranks of words more numerate than these,
let us march on the politicians bringing truth to its knees

Pain

We rage against the Robin's song,
the leaf assaulting breeze,
snarling smiles on the stranger's face,
the menacing sway of gnarled branches