Tag: Poem

Last Night

It is not what is happening that scares me,
It is that it already once drove me mad.
 
It was one thing to feel her cold talons
Death’s grip wrapped tightly round my throat.
The darkness that choked me
That night I died,
I keep visiting it,
In my head
Again,
And again.
It has no end.
 
To have fought that battle,
Escaping with nothing but a scar.
To survive through it all
Only to see the clouds
The sky blacking out.
 
It is not the madness that fears me
It is the thought of what may come last.
 
                    - Andy McRae

I wish I could remember when I wrote this. Or what event of my life it is about.

Night Skies

Walking home on a brisk winter night
I look to the sky and see Orion hung bright.
 
I marvel at all the stars in the sky
And planets that twinkle in the eye.
 
Waiting under the lamppost aglow
Watching my breath linger so slow.
 
The snow is thick on the ground
But I am only looking up tonight
Searching for what can be found.
 
--Andy McRae--       --5/4/20--

Absence of a Tree

Once it was there, now it is no more
Monument of white, a tower of blight
A pale tree gone, dead from the bore’.

Gone are views of the emerald skies
‘Would turn yellow when the wind’d bellow
Coming with the summer’s demise.

Now there is not where the pale tree stood
But a shade of a spot where wood chips rot
And a blight on the eye, once the beechwood.
 
--Andy McRae--        --5/3/20--

Screaming Paradigm

They are in my head
Screaming at me that I should be dead.
Tearing me, ripping me apart
These monsters who wanted me from the start.
 
The echoes ringing, so far unreturned
Leave me deaf, and rather concerned.
Dancing flames lick before my eyes
But grabbing them would be unwise.
 
Screaming, Shouting, Roaring in my brain
The sounds of battle that are under the strain
Of this madness around us all the time
The sickness that dwells deep within the paradigm.
 
--Andy McRae--           --5/1/20--

Mythos

Beams from beyond the window come
And rest across my sleepy eye,
Waking me from deep slumber
Dreaming of where I am from.
 
I sit up and let out a sigh
Knowing that I am no longer under
The hypnotic fantasy,
A mythos that is all a lie.
 
Feeling disappointment, I wonder
What if I’d followed that fallacy,
And continued down that trail
Would I have made a blunder?
 
So to cement my new legacy
I will have to climb out of this vale
And set out on this new odyssey.
 
As I sit and stare, at my window’s veil,
I wonder how the light broke through this tale.
 
 
--Andy McRae--  --4/30/20--

Light Coming Through My Window by Night

Through my window, the light leaks
Pouring over my room
I can see the outlines
Of a world of gray
The light illuminates the lay.
 
I make out the edges of the T.V.
And its red dot, glowing so hot,
I can just see into the closet
And the ties, hanging in a knot,
I catch record player in the corner
And it’s ready to burst to life on the spot.
 
My room, like the world outside
Is void of color, though still
Taking in the light,
Of the night.
 
The lit shades of my window, still,
Make my thoughts drift out
To the world outside my life,
Lit by a moon and a lamp,
Yet shrouded by Night’s stamp.
 
I make out the houses in a row
And the chimney smoke rolling off to faraway,
I can just see the shade of a birch
And the leaves dropping, falling away,
I catch the eyes of an owl
And the scurry of its prey on its breakaway.
 
The world outside, like my room
Is void of color, though still
Taking in the light,
Of the night.
 
So, as I lay here and fade to sleep
I wonder at what will be.
What shall the Light take away,
As we come upon a new day.
 
 
-Andy McRae–       -4/29/20-

INK

From the shadows of my needs
A tall haunting figure approaches
Wielding a black ink fountain
He begins to speak.
 
Script flowing from his whip
On the pages, the shrieking storm
Of time flows out, pouring a never
Ending stain of blood on the floor.
 
Words curled around his tongue,
The man of old begins
To weave ice in threads
Bringing you to his ends.
 
Enter the labyrinth he presents
A void of lovely comprise.
In the lost times
Of a word so fine
We live our lives in a lie.
 
His words are forever
Permanent marks on a canvas
Forever my body shall be thine.
 
Print within the dotted line.
 
- A R McRae

This is a old poem written back during either late high school or early college days. It was most likely written on my iPod.