Fear

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

Fear

From an oily puddle of the darkest dark
Dripping hands rise to grip your heart.
Eyes grow wide as a face appears
The deathly skull of the ancient one, Fear.

Fear awakes in yellow fog and mist
Around your limbs it entwines and twists.
Till you stand immobile, unable to run.
Frozen in place till Fear’s deed is done.

Flickering lights on the moor at night
Change to demons outside your sight.
Footsteps heard on the rocky Tor
Fuel your nightmares forever more.

Ghastly shapes and shadows of doom
Transform even the friendliest room.
Torture and horrid dreams of death
Challenge your senses and take your breath.

Fear can bind even a brilliant mind.
Holding back, trembling, afraid to be kind.
For kindness kills the fearsome doubt.
Suddenly there is nothing to worry about.

Fear can not resist the game
Two humans play, it’s always the same.
Conquering Fear is not done alone.
It takes two hearts that love has grown.

Fear can not live where love is confessed.
It can not continue its frightful quest.
For words of love dissolve Fear’s hold.
Two true loving hearts are forever bold.

Window

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M. Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

Window

I look out the window with the broad windowsill
Wide enough for a calico cat, very still,
To stretch out comfortably watching the trees.
Thinking cat dreams of catching birds and bees.

The old window ‘s divided into twelve little panes,
Framing the garden and the gravel lane.
Wistful I wander in my restless mind
To far away places and other times.

Each pane shows a piece of a puzzle green.
Grasses, flowers, and trees make a scene
Tranquil and serene , so welcoming.
The trees and the lane seem to beckon me.

I hear the crunch of a boot on gravel.
The scene in my mind begins to unravel.
Inside this chamber dim and warm
Is where I find my longed for home.

Light through the window shows your form and face,
In one of the window panes perfectly traced.
One pane shows you looking up happily.
Another the empty lane calling to me.

A country lane is a dangerous thing.
You will never know what tomorrow might bring.
For today I will turn my face from the light,
Seeking the comfort of a windowless night.