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    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Supporter Contributor

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    Agatha Christie and Wolfwig - Joint Weekly Poetry Contest (205) Winners

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Aug 30, 2012.

    Nightmare
    By Agatha Christie


    Haziness, blackness, nearer they creep.
    The start of a dread that I always see.
    Into my mind when I'm fast asleep
    Come swirling shapes that terrify me.

    Nearer it comes, this strange black mist
    Like a rattling snake that won't desist.
    I start to fear, my body shakes.
    I try to escape amidst the blue lakes.

    There they are, waiting for me
    Welcome blue lakes that beckon and smile.
    Now I make haste, though I'm weary.
    I never stop. I go one more mile.

    Just in good time, before the mist comes
    Into the lake, I step in and sigh.
    At last I am safe, in these deep fathoms
    But it turns out to be one big lie.

    My lips apart, I try to scream
    I try so hard to call and shout
    There is no voice in this dark dream.
    Sound is silent, it can't get out.

    The lakes are laughing at me now
    I'm drowning, drowning, must be dying
    Will I escape cold death somehow?
    Or will I die while I'm still trying?

    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    A Dream in Darkness
    By Wolfwig


    Heat – the wicked scent of roasting flesh
    and radiant vapors from the
    simmering blood that courses through my veins;

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    Salt – acrid, pungent, stiffens the air
    that ripples in hammering blasts
    where I lay supine with nothing to grasp;

    Caught – I am unable to stand; so
    I roll upon the coarse surface
    beneath me, abrasive and harsh as the

    Voice – whispering loudly in my ear,
    “It’s time.” Once prone, I push myself
    to my feet and begin to run, but where?

    Give – my legs pump and drive rapidly,
    though I barely move forward, as
    the pliant sand offers small resistance;

    Fear – I must escape; the voice follows,
    moaning, “It’s time,” and will not leave
    me, ‘til I am fallen and feel the cold

    Wet – water rising all about me
    forces me to my feet again,
    but, alas, the water too has risen

    Deep – to my neck, gelatinous and
    heavy, it chokes my movement, while
    the voice insists, “It’s time” … hissing, “It’s time.”

    Then – as something beneath the surface
    grazes my leg, abruptly I
    awake, startled, heart pounding, breath labored,

    Sheets – sweat-soaked and tangled about me,
    my sunburn tingling, disrupted
    equilibrium causing my head to

    Spin – from a golden day spent riding
    ocean waves, handled but not seen;
    for nature renders no braille at the beach.
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