Posts Tagged ‘groans’

I saw a scary movie once
That made a mark on me,
A tattoo on my youthful brain
Till my maturity.

It was a life ago (almost).
Was it a black and white?
It seems there was a something – red;
If so, that can’t be right.

The who, the where, the what, and why
Are gone; not one remains.
And out of all the many scenes,
Just one my mind retains.

It was at night, upon the sea,
And all was dark and drear.
Then, suddenly, from blackened depths,
A monster’s head did rear.

It was a giant octopus
With red and evil eye
That glared upon the human race
To rip and terrify.

I can’t remember if I dreamed
That night, instead of sheep,
Of monsters with one hellish eye
Arising from the deep.

But though I grew up on a farm,
And far from any sea,
The creature somehow made its way
To come and visit me.

And on those nights when blackened waves
Rolled o’er my branded mind,
I knew the Eye had risen up
Above the murky brine.

I knew exactly when it rose
To glow a reddish hell
And look upon me as its mark
While I had none to tell.

It was those times upon the farm,
The windmill by the pond
Was running loose when it was late
And night, with black jaws, yawned.

And if the windmill turned all night
Because a wind would blow,
The cistern, filled, would water waste
In treasure overflow.

As oldest, task was often mine
To trek down in the dark
To where the windmill groaned and turned
And waters filled an arc.

The pond was blacker than a sea
Without a starry friend,
And still, as though death sat below
And saw its prey and grinned.

The windmill creaked in spins and turns –
Or else… it was the lake!
What sounds do monsters make at night
In stretching to awake?

But still my heart was fairly calm;
My palms were cool and dry,
For I was facing evil’s lair
And watching for the Eye.

The first when fear ran down my spine
Like one small drop of sweat
Was when I pulled upon the brake –
I think of that time yet.

The wheel, the wires, the rods, and wood
Made clunks and shrieks – the sound!
How could a lad then even know
A monster was around?

My job complete, I took a look,
A final one – two ways? –
Upon the surface of the sea
Still smooth in ev’ry phase.

And then I turned to-ward the house
And its far, friendly light,
My only harbor from the Eye
That now rose in the night.

That was the moment – always then! –
When I had my back turned,
The giant octopus rose up
And red the waters burned.

I ran like rivers in a flood;
Like Christ’s dear friends, I fled –
The pounding of my feet was matched
By my heart in its dread.

I never ever saw the Eye –
Just knew that it was there,
For if I ever dared to look,
I saw the waters bare.

It was twice wicked in that way –
It knew, and wouldn’t rise.
If I walked backward to the house,
The Eye would sense my eyes.

But still I knew, and still I know
The Red Eye oft appeared
Those moments when my back was turned,
When I most greatly feared.

There are some fears it’s best to face
Than turn our backs and flee.
Life’s monsters often see the brave,
And stay beneath the sea.


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.


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