Night Mare
Night Mare
As I age, what the night mare carries
on her broad black back
is more often grief
than fear,
joys foregone rather than horrors
to come,
friends who never reached
their rightful ends,
the loved who had to leave,
with no more days
tucked up a sleeve, not even
a sleeve,
and I, who walk this earth
that mounds around them, weep
by the darkest side
of that night horse.
I cannot, in the remorse of here
even lean into her warm hide, cannot breathe the balm
of hard-run sweat, yet bending past
my divide, she nuzzles me; she
snorts, resettling her hooves
in sound sparks whose ring against the doved rise
of my winding sheet is so surprising
that I am able to turn, at last,
to the warmth,
in the way a tree might turn
when the wind winds down,
and apologize to those
who have gone.
But if they reply, I do not hear them
for those beats as the mare
moves on,
for those beats
as the mare
moves on.
************************
Poem for Bjorn Rutberg’s prompt on With Real Toads to write something on the theme of nightmare. This pic is a recycled one of mine; Bjorn also suggested using a painting or drawing of Francesco Goya. I love love Goya, but confess to having written this poem before choosing the picture, as I could hardly bare the grimness today (so I’m not sure the pic really fits, as I am thinking of rather a more benign horse.)
This poem has been slightly edited since first posting; and probably will be edited again!
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: aging nightmare poem, grief rather fear comes in the night, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, manicddaily, Night Mare poem, where have all the flowers gone sort of poem
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January 30, 2016 at 8:14 pm
A beautifully realised poem, to which I can relate all too well. And yet, as good poetry always is for me, cathartic.
January 30, 2016 at 8:27 pm
Thanks so much, Rosemary. k.
January 30, 2016 at 9:54 pm
I enjoyed the complex interaction between the speaker and the mare. The way the mare’s load evolves, the way the speaker reacts to the change.
January 30, 2016 at 9:56 pm
As I age, I also find the bad dreams to be more specific and profound. I am not fond of these night journeys.
January 31, 2016 at 2:07 am
I like how you went with the benign horse.. Instead of the mare as that terrible being riding you at night. My dreams are certainly vivid but you’re right that they tend to be more of sorrow than of fear,
January 31, 2016 at 8:11 am
The soft cadence of this is almost more dreamlike than nigtmarish, till the reality the words represent breaks through that blanket–loss and regret are the true agers, I believe–everything that is taken from us, everything we wanted but didn’t achieve–and here you illustrate the how and why of it–I especially like the second and third stanzas, with the mounded earth and the doved rise, but the whole poem is evocative and beautiful, in its way–the final lines, especially.
January 31, 2016 at 8:15 am
I was just looking at the poem again in the light of your comment and am wondering whether it shouldn’t read “apologize to that that is gone” rather than “those.” Except I was really thinking “those” more as survivor and “that” seems kind of solipsistic although there might be a bigger point there (in terms of the regret piece.). Thanks.
January 31, 2016 at 8:25 am
Ps I just couldn’t quite bear to go with a more classic nightmare.
January 31, 2016 at 12:53 pm
This is so perfect, K. Really exquisite language and flow.
January 31, 2016 at 1:29 pm
Thanks, MZ.
On Sun, Jan 31, 2016 at 12:53 PM, ManicDDaily wrote:
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January 31, 2016 at 3:48 pm
Stanza two is my favorite, but the whole piece is stellar.
January 31, 2016 at 6:24 pm
Thanks so much, Mary. k.
On Sun, Jan 31, 2016 at 3:48 PM, ManicDDaily wrote:
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February 1, 2016 at 12:38 pm
Just like a dream! I love how you took compared it all to a black horse so aptly put! I enjoyed it very much.
February 1, 2016 at 12:39 pm
Wish we could edit these, take the “took” out. Lol!
February 1, 2016 at 1:57 pm
I love your original perspective of this – my favorite line “As I age, what the night mare carries
on her broad black back
is more often grief
than fear”
February 1, 2016 at 4:18 pm
Oh my gosh this is so true. Grief is something you can’t wake up from. This really hits in the gut…Powerful!!
February 2, 2016 at 1:40 am
an original and well-executed treatment, K. as we age, it’s less the abject horror of the feared future, but the wistful regret and sorrow of what did – or didn’t – happen ~
February 27, 2016 at 10:58 am
Back for another look at this brilliant poem. Karin, would you please email me at wildwoman2@shaw.ca ? I have lost your email address and have a question……thanks, kiddo.
April 10, 2016 at 4:08 pm
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