Somnolent

by Ben Pickard   Sep 8, 2016


I lost her, this I must now tell,
Upon the moors and in the gloom;
I was, that night, under a spell
Of golden hair and sweet perfume.

For days I looked, for days I tried,
Each rock and flower mocking me;
The moss thrived on the tears I cried,
Compounding all my misery.

I even asked the moon for help
By lighting up the path you trod,
And when that failed, upon my knees,
I fell and offered prayers to God.

I washed in streams then drank my dirt -
It seemed it would not wash away!
But each gulp failed to drown my hurt
Or quench my pitiful dismay.

The filth felt right when swallowed down;
It churned and mixed with sickly bile.
It tempted me in grief to drown
And to despair a little while.

"Not I!" I yelled to those dark thoughts -
And to the stream: "Here - have it back!
My search for her, I won't abort,
And my white mind shan't turn to black!"

So thirsty, though, became the quest
And hungry, too - there was no food.
I do now at this point confess,
Each hopeful thought, I did exclude.

---------

With dreadful bouts of somnolence,
I stumbled on and muttered this:
"My love is near - and water too -
And not one thought is yet amiss!"

---------

The end comes slowly for the lost -
Each sorry step a backward one;
And by my final ragged oath,
I was, by madness, now undone.

Then at the last, the stars were all,
But did not warm or comfort me;
Too distant in that cold black sky
To show me love or sympathy.

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

Then nothing was my only friend -
No golden hair or luscious lips
To tempt me on those cursed moors;
At last, with death, you were eclipsed.

Ben Pickard 2016

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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Paul Hirst

    Great Write and well worth the accolade

  • 3 months ago

    by mossgirl19

    Ben, words fail me to give justice to how beautiful and profound this piece is. Michael (Mr. Darcy) has highlighted all the remarkable parts of this one. He nailed it all. Wow, Ben, this is truly a gem.

  • 7 months ago

    by deeplydesturbed

    wow Benny - some how i had missed this one.. sorry!

    this is simply amazing! everyone has disected and commented and everything.

    all i can say its well done..

  • 7 months ago

    by Wayne Gates

    Oh if I only had such a rich vocabulary at the tip of my thoughts when I attempt to communicate the jumbled journey my mind travels. All great poetry ceases to be seen as the the visions in our minds take over. This was a great emotional quest you just took me on. Very nice work.

    • 7 months ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thank you, Wayne. All the best.

  • 1 year ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    Hello Ben,

    Your pen does not and will never silently weep... instead, it sobs and wails in fits of controlled floods of emotional tidal waters.

    The title word of, 'Somnolent' was new to me, but there again that isn't necessarily a new thing. lol: Okay, Google: 'causing or suggestive of drowsiness'

    The sad story of brief love and then ensuing anguish of her physical and mental memory absence is captivating. The despair leading to deranged description is amazing. My favourite lines are: I washed in streams then drank my dirt
    ^
    the idea of drinking ones own dirt is repulsive and for this reason effective in instilling the extreme measures offered to be without 'hurt'. I think we can all relate to feeling so awful that we would do anything to be without the pain. I guess it is better than suicide, but then you may be hinting at this as 'drinking your own dirt is marginally preferable. Remind me never to ask you to make me a cuppa. lol

    another: The filth felt right when swallowed down;
    It churned and mixed with sickly bile.
    ^
    Your mind is warped and I like it! The imagery and the revealed gagging up of bile is acute.

    The journey into madness is well described, screaming at the water. I like the wording of 'white mind to black. A clear sanity into insanity reference. Cool.

    'each sorry step a backward one'
    ^
    this is like moon walking or better still and more aptly, treading water and getting no where.

    The end is so bitterly sad:

    The end comes slowly for the lost -
    And by my final ragged oath,
    I was, by madness, now undone.
    ^
    No quick death, only a torturous one. The 'ragged' breath sums up the drawn out ordeal well. As does the battle with madness: Madness 1, Ben o

    Then at the last, the stars were all,
    But did not warm or comfort me;
    Too distant in that cold black sky
    To show me love or sympathy.
    ^
    'stars were all' I get from this forever night/ dark/ no life/ devoid of compassion/ only 'cold and uncaring death.

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

    Then nothing was my only friend -
    No golden hair or luscious lips
    ^
    I like the juxtaposition of these two lines. It summarises the poem well. The catalyst of the demise into loneliness and resulting terminal madness/ death.

    To tempt me on those cursed moors;
    At last, with death, you were eclipsed.
    ^
    These final lines ebb the thoughts of that damning time that has consumed a life, but now 'death' has the final say, the final line. Apt again!

    Well done Ben, this is well written and thought through. Clever metaphors which conjure vivid re-flux in the most hardy of readers.

    Take care and my advice is take some Omeprazole as there is so much that can repeat on us.

    Michael

    • 1 year ago

      by Ben Pickard

      Thanks for finding this comment, Michael - it's more than I deserve after deleting my last account and with it, many of your other wonderful comments.

      Ben

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