Crainte
By Subhodeep Basu
Dear lord I was shaken.
Juddered in my dreamy slumber;
Chilled to the tip of my root.
Not a spook, not an ogre, not a wise owl's hoot.
My bleary nous did jest;
Stocked a queer dread, as a pest.
I thought then of fright;
Plebeian it was quite.
Fright is one and demotic to man;
Its causes tend to motley in shades,
As if bent and spun in startling braids.
A crook that dread reign and clink;
Need and miss does sway him not.
The saint is queer to snipe and lag,
Want and hate, he has e'er fought.
The treacherous being when turned on a whore;
His licit's steps renders,
his core then sore.
Stygian future does shake a kid;
A pupil to be fine.
As passing time brings rigors novel,
The absolved sinless souls shall grovel.
The trip to the woods is famed.
The lad and his sib's venture;
Ached for a meaty trencher.
But fright did prevail;
For they left on the path,
A crease of stony trail.
The pouncing beast as a thunderous bolt.
The crawling auger's venomous jolt.
They strike the psyche of many a knight;
Whose steel does shine in gory fights.
As the dark did pass,
So did my quest for fright.
Later in the morn,
I recalled the trail
of the fright that I struck,
When the dark did prevail.
I thought of the moment, as I garbed in my suit;
Not a spook; not an ogre;
Not a wise owl's hoot.
Juddered in my dreamy slumber;
Chilled to the tip of my root.
Not a spook, not an ogre, not a wise owl's hoot.
My bleary nous did jest;
Stocked a queer dread, as a pest.
I thought then of fright;
Plebeian it was quite.
Fright is one and demotic to man;
Its causes tend to motley in shades,
As if bent and spun in startling braids.
A crook that dread reign and clink;
Need and miss does sway him not.
The saint is queer to snipe and lag,
Want and hate, he has e'er fought.
The treacherous being when turned on a whore;
His licit's steps renders,
his core then sore.
Stygian future does shake a kid;
A pupil to be fine.
As passing time brings rigors novel,
The absolved sinless souls shall grovel.
The trip to the woods is famed.
The lad and his sib's venture;
Ached for a meaty trencher.
But fright did prevail;
For they left on the path,
A crease of stony trail.
The pouncing beast as a thunderous bolt.
The crawling auger's venomous jolt.
They strike the psyche of many a knight;
Whose steel does shine in gory fights.
As the dark did pass,
So did my quest for fright.
Later in the morn,
I recalled the trail
of the fright that I struck,
When the dark did prevail.
I thought of the moment, as I garbed in my suit;
Not a spook; not an ogre;
Not a wise owl's hoot.
About the Poet - Subhodeep Basu
An engineer by fashion, a writer by passion. My writing is vividly guided by emotions and displays a suave motley of feelings, hope, love and desire.
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