A castle creeps along a barren desert,
Slithering on it’s marble tendrils,
Writhing in irritation,
and Reforming architecturally in gelatinous fashion.
It dares entry.
Was that my name I heard,
Drinking me towards the drawbridge’s empty gullet,
Or does the wind siren an oncoming storm?
It bears no weight,
Without a step I am already trapped,
Steel teeth snap and guard their wooden gates.
A gangly creature in manicured garb
Captures my hand in six (or was it seven) digits
And leads me through a hall of pinned butterflies
Growing larger and more vibrant the deeper we venture.
Shadowed under a Morpho’s wings
I am blinded.
We descend downwards,
Stairs disintegrating in my wake.
Without word or gesture, without sight,
I know the creature beckons me to our terminus.
I am granted a distorted afterimage
Of a leviathan corpse curled around me,
And so I crawl beneath it’s sternum and lay.
“We are children of rot.” calls the creature.
“We are children of rot.” calls the leviathan.
“We are children of rot.” calls the castle.
“I am a child of rot.” I concede.
-
Author:
Aislinn Wilson (
Offline) - Published: January 29th, 2018 13:12
- Comment from author about the poem: This is just an account of a dream I had. It's not really my best so it'd be nice to know how to unearth this via criticism or encouragement.
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 43
- Users favorite of this poem: ZIGGY, Shadowbox15
Offline)
Comments6
Very frightening dream - I absolutely loved this line: Drinking me towards the drawbridge’s empty gullet,
Thank you, Lorna!
That'll teach you not to eat blue cheese for supper!
Or rather, not to read Junji Ito's Uzumaki for light night reading. But good point, haha
Wow stunning piece of writing every word and line grabbed my imagination very well penned this is one of those I will want to read again ,,,,zigs
Thank you so very much
your style of writing seems perfect to me no need to ever change it as I see just evolve ,,,,zigs
I take my hat off to you Aislinn, writing work this good and yet still seeking advice to improve it.
Anent the last line: I am trapped, I am lead, I am beckoned all indicate subserviency and to reflect this and round the poem off - for the last line a slight change of repetition to reflect this and thus:
''I am a child of rot' I concede'.
That, is fantastic advice, thank you so much.
My pleasure - so pleased you like it.
Fascinating piece of writing! Had you not mentioned that it was a dream, I would have suspected that this was driven by the terror of suffering, in contrast to death. Nevertheless, fantastic use of imagery.
Hmm, that's a very interesting take. Thank you.
You’re welcome.
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