Fantastic Chris all my poetry is rhyme and rhthem and your first poem is a breath of fresh air, if I was to suggest a slight addition to one of the lines to keep the flow of words steady it would be to add the word THAT to the fifth verse last line "There is nowhere THAT I can flee"
Hope you dont mind!
Bill.
NIGHTMARE
By: R. Christopher
Jerked awake from disturbing dreams.
Terror fills my invoiced screams.
Another night of restless sleep
with sweat-soaked covers all aheap.
Breathe deep to calm my racing heart.
Await the dawning day to start.
Another day of fear and fright
of what dreams may come tonight.
Will they be dreams sharp and pointed,
or imahes so dishointed.
Freams in colors of violet-dread
with flames and sparks of yellow-red.
Or scenes of love turned to hate,
disappointments that don’t abate.
Worse—the loneliness dark as coal
that eats away your very soul.
The nightly tide of evv and flow
the dreams retreat but do not go.
They have always returned to me
There is nowhere that I can flee.
Some nights the dreams; they do not haunt,
they do not scare, they do not taunt,
but just hide away in the dark,
and bide their time to make their mark.
I pray this night I shall have peace.
One night’s rest, one night’s release.
A night without a dreams visit.
It’s not too great a prayer—is it
AND NOW FOR SOMETHIG COMPLETELY DIFFERENT...
THE FUTURE BEHIND ME
By: R. Christopher
My past stretches out before me.
The far ago blurs in the distance of years.
Some memories are sharp and clear,
for I’ve oft revisited those pleasant times.
Some scream out their warning cries,
telling me to avoid their painful remembrances.
Nearer memories fresh and new.
The recent past not wholly reconciled.
Maybe to blaze in vivid clarity
or fade to half-remembered obscurity.
Time will sort them out, for I cannot.
Over my shoulder the future becomes the past.
Glimpsed out of the corner of my eye.
The present rushes by so fast
it can hardly be comprehended.
Sometimes I fear I lag behind
then run so fast that I trip.
Time ignores my stumbling strides.
He’s not known as one who’ll wait.
Unknown and only darkly divined
by examining the past’s vague hints,
the future gallops on swift moving hooves,
from behind where I cannot see.
Furiously charging comes the time to be.
Inexorable and incessant.
Wrapped in a cloak of mystery
he carries the unknown, and the unexpected.
In his hand is the sword of fate
that must one day fall on me
bringing an end, and perhaps a beginning.
PLEASE COMMENT. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK (GOOD OR BAD). THANK YOU!