Samuel (a humorous poem)

One night Samuel was startled in bed
And sat up to find the reason why;
Then he wrapped the blankets around his head
To hide a horror from his eyes.

Across the room, and palefully glowing,
These stood a most diaphanous thing
Which, neither candle nor curtain flowing,
Resembled a moth without its wings.

Piqued by presently vague impressions
He removed the covers to observe a girl
Who wore upon her face expressions
About as pellucid and blank as pearls.

She had no mouth; her eyes were black;
A nightgown hung loosely on her shoulders;
Her hair grew halfway down her back;
A liquid flame seemed to enfold her.

Given the hour a little effort
Could explain away his vexing guest
As consequence of a late dessert —
Allowing him to resume his rest.

Nevertheless he could not ignore
A series of facts, both clear and dim:
Her feet refused to touch the floor
And she radiated a besotting vim.

That is, her being sui generis did so —
A marvel like the lightning bug
Whose bioluminescent glow
Provokes in wonderment a shrug —

In contrast her countenance provoked
A sense of soft and wan disquiet,
Like after long evenings of drink and smoke
Or wicked calms that follow riots.

But Sam eventually lost interest
As most do faced with something deep
For the strangest things are often stillest —
And before long, bored, he fell asleep.

By morning, when the thrushes’ chorus
Awakened him, he had forgot her
Since midnight’s memory is porous.
He shrieked to find her in the corner

With neither scowl nor smile nor frown
But sad and inscrutable as before.
Infuriated, he seized her by the gown
And threw her out the apartment door.

Then locking the door (as pat as pat)
Sam turned his thought to tea and toast;
Regarding the window from where he sat
He queried dimly, “was she a ghost?”

The window yawned upon grey morning
That stirred the curtains and fanned the steam,
Whence suddenly came a knock imploring
And a face materialized by the window framed.

Quickly he shut it and drew the curtains,
The room collapsing in sudden dark —
That this was proving bad was certain,
And soft light flickered as its mark.

Before he could close the chimney flue
There she sat amid the ashes
Is such a way as to unglue
His reason with her impassive lashes.

Anxious, sighing and feeling jailed
He wondered sullenly if he had sinned
And cursed that his precautions failed
For somehow she had gotten in.

Half mad to make her go away
He paused, realizing she had done no harm;
So Samuel let the creature stay
Still slightly struck by her strange charm.

Thus every morning he would arise
Beneath the most disturbing stares
Directed at him by marble eyes
Through the spindles of a chair.

Then one day from the bath her went
To grab a towel from off the hook
And was annoyed to find her bent
Round the corner to steal a look.

And if he had to get his coverings
To run some errands in the noon
He’d find her in the closet smothering
Herself with overcoats like a cocoon.

On Sundays, when he found the time
To do some cleaning in his room,
She would be holding (the eerie mime)
A silent discourse with the broom.

Whenever he set upon the flame
The kettle for his daily steep
She played a strange and mystic game
Of plucking flames like flowers-for-keeps.

At evening when he liked to browse
The paper and smoke and sip his wine
She would prevent his longed for drowse
By tapping arhythmically on the chime.

Finally, at nights she took a seat
Upon the mantle beside the clock
And as he snored she swung her feet
In synchronicity with its tock.

So passed the weeks, the hours like drips
Which exacerbate a swelling silence,
And in crept madness upon two lips
Within his mind which counseled violence.

Then Samuel snapped. Forgetting use
Of hand or foot he seized her head
Inside his mouth and shook quite loose
His own poor joints to shake her dead.

But when he ceased and spat her out
And collapsed himself onto the floor
She hovered over as he blacked out,
As if to remind him he could take no more.

A moment later, more self-possessed,
Sam grabbed his hat and coat and left
To stalk the streets and to suppress
A loom of frustration’s threatening weft.

Beneath a leafless ancient oak
Upon a bench his thoughts convened;
And though he resisted his mind invoked
Her — and, painfully, he saw he had been mean.

Returning, and slowly peeking in,
The corner was empty, but on the wall
A huge and beautiful flying thing
Held still — no girl in sight at all.

Slowly he sidestepped past the thing,
Breathless with either awe or fear,
To open the window. Then it took wing
And most gracefully did it disappear.

4 Responses to “Samuel (a humorous poem)”

  1. Excellent!

  2. […] And here’s another poem by a completely different blogger. It is entitled Samuel (a humorous poem). […]

  3. […] And here’s another poem by a completely different blogger. It is entitled Samuel (a humorous poem). […]

  4. […] to it. This, to me, is the heart of the poetry revolution. I’ve included an excerpt below. Click here to read the entire […]

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