Monster of the Night – Author Debasish Mishra

 

When darkness swells

In the dead of the night,

And an eerie silence hangs in the air,

I see that enormous Creature crawling,

Monstrously, inch by inch, towards me!

 

It’s dangerous for sure;

I can sense the venom in its tongue,

The fire in its eyes,

The strength in its sinews!

It is more dangerous

Than what probably Yeats had seen!

 

Like the embodiment of Leviathan,

Or the huge Atlas, it comes

Unhindered in its purpose, ruthlessly

Fluttering the shining sword,

Grinding it’s jaws with bitter rage!

 

As the distance dwindles, I fear

The size and the enormity,

A hundred dinosaurs fused into one,

Desperate to destroy the world.

 

I swallow a gulp and nervously ask,

“Who are you, O Monster?

What do you want?”

The deadpan face engenders a smile,

A brutal smile, when He chuckles,

“I am War, my friend. I’ll efface everything.”

 

© Debasish Mishra


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Who are you? Are you a brave knight? A warrior brandishing your sword, ready for battle. Are you a dreamer? Away with the fairies, losing count of fireflies whilst searching for Neverland. A goth? Who feels right at home with the monsters hiding under the bed, who loves to dance a dervish with the devil on the stroke of midnight. Or perhaps you are a dragon-slayer? Or a soul snatcher? Basking in the heat of an eternal flame. Or maybe you’re a witch? Hiding deep in the woods, practicing dark arts beneath the light of a full moon.

L.J. Diaz, Author of Catching Snowflakes

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Categories: Anthology

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4 replies

  1. It has so exciting to read your piece! Thanks for sharing and God bless you!

    Like

  2. Awesome poem. Very original and love how it flows. You’re an experienced writer may I ask for your opinion?
    I LIVE WITH ZOMBIES
    BY MARK RAYMOND MILLER
    COPY RIGHTED 12/28/2017
    I Live with zombies
    They are in my living room
    Telling me happy stories
    Which I fail to hear
    With zero’s behind the littles
    Who abide with teachers might
    Receive a letter extraordinaire
    May I ask why so solemn?
    Ruling class to stapled beds
    Is not an honorary decay
    Just because some lonesome words
    Without mention to love his dead
    As if we enter exists without existence
    If you wonder where they live
    Across the table you’ll find instead
    I promise to wait my dear
    For love and honor sincere
    Should you cry so soon
    While all is silent on Western Front
    Where cannons fire projects past
    River Somme’s empty body stumps
    OH but you only know the minimal
    Of stillborn Mary’s encounter
    With fresh young memes delivery
    Alive to infect us all with razor
    Edge teeth which earn to sink
    Was it just yesterday we spoke
    Of our past out date cold in lost
    I must confess without you around
    Who is worthy of my sinister
    Playground horror terror hour
    I bid you all a fine good day
    For soon mushroom clouds will
    Fill our days but don’t dismay
    They’ll be visitors from night time’s graves
    Who are dearer to us than those we dispose
    Copyright © Mark Miller | Year Posted 2018

    Like

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