By Jeremy M. - Posted on 08 September 2010

In the instant

I ran through that field

Oh what a great field it was

Overlooking a place of great men.


And saw the phantom spirits.

I turned around into the blackness

Oh the trees on the edge

Menacing and looming over.


They chased after me

I ran faster, clutching my key chain and backpack close

Oh useless items

Failing to protect me from evil.


The spirits halted as I challenged them

I said “Be still foul knaves, for I am on the side of Good and my master is great.

If thou will take me

Then claim me in the light.”


The streetlight felt like protection

I stayed close to it

Oh the ghastly figures

Stretching their ghoulish arms.


As they came closer

I invoked the name of my patron again

Oh Master, thou gave me this mission

Confronting the darkness head on.


Whether it was arrogance or strength of heart

I held me ground

Oh those wretched souls came no closer.

Separating them from I, the sides were now drawn.





Quick background: I scared myself really bad not an hour before this was written. This is the product of me immediately writing afterwards. I guess (I think it was Blake?) who said that poetry is created after meditating on an emotion and the meter, rhyme, and content follow. I have a few other poems coming down the pipe including one special one for Halloween.


dbanach's picture

I like this one. I can feel a bit of the influence of Blake and Wordsworth seeping in. Wordsworth-"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful emotion, reflected upon in tranquility"


And I like that you were the cause of the scare; ultimately there is nothing out there more rightening than ourselves.

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