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Scream
by Wayne Thomas (Age: 58)
copyright 07-21-2007


Age Rating: 13 to 127

 
Springing from my bed,
I scream in strained silence
in the oily black house,
nerves taut
like the strings on my guitar--
fearful for what might be,
dreading what might be
happening to my body,
happening to me.
I'm not ready to be old;
I'm less ready to die.

Out my Jersey window,
the rain swarms like fire bugs
in the light from the vague street lamp
in the slate-gray New Jersey sky.
I listen to the whine of tires
on the slick, wet roads.

I hear the rain, now,
pounding on my roof and walls,
now streaming down the window panes
like tiny flash floods.
My mind whirls from lack of sleep,
and I wonder, half-aloud,
how many sunrises do I have left?

The day sweeps by in fits and naps,
and all too soon
it's late at night, again,
alone.

I seek solace in my books of poetry
and manuscripts of my own precious poems,
caught up in my too-short life
like a fever.

I pace the floors,
wander into the bedroom,
smile down at my sleeping wife,
her face silver in the wan moonlight,
linger awhile,
and wander barefoot through
the empty house,
eating a bowl of ice cream as I go.

And I hear the wind come up,
lashing through trees and flowers,
pressing on the house itself--
the rain again, the endless rain.
Again, without sound or words,
I scream.


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Comments on this Article/Poem:
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05-09-2008 Jade L.    

It's funny... I may be young, but I know what this feels like. My body doesn't work like it should and there were several times in my life when they could find no scientific reason I managed to live. WHen every night you know you may never wake up, sometimes it's frightning yet sometimes it's a comfort. Good poem. Just remember even if you never wake at least you have someone who loves you and always will, and more than likely there are people up there waiting to see you again, cherishing your every eartly laugh.
09-02-2007 Emily Garwood    

its interesting to see what people think about as time goes on this kinda reminds me of my grandad as he constantly said he was too old and he was going to die he said the same thing over and over for 5 years...but instead of poetry he had me obviously my grandma too but he was my best friend and it hurt so bad when he'd start on my "i'm too old..." i've realised you can't think about whats gonna happen u just have to enjoy life and whos around you and live it to the fullest. this is a brilliant poem though and i loved it everything just flowed and the structure was great too keep up the good work

emy
08-10-2007 Richard Reed Jr    

Awesome write with powerful words and imagery.
Tends to draw the reader into the poem although it sort of' makes my skin crawl a bit -yet without life there can be no death and as I am 'wont to believe; without death there can be no life.

Great write Wayne,

~Rich
07-28-2007 Frank Fields    

As with all of your works, this one is especally dangerous to be given only a cursory reading, then for anyone to have the courage to offer a commnet.

It is a chilling presentation of sunset days that come unbidden, but even though unwanted, refuse to leave like unpleasant guests.

Still, there is tangible imagery of a world of comfort, at least one which balances the scream which most of us will endure.

An excellent write!

Frank :)
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