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.

To Write A Poem

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

To Write A Poem

To write a poem I do not dare,
My muse has left my side.
I dwelt too long in dark despair
And lost my ethereal guide.

I am so conflicted about my life,
Somehow the spark is gone.
All I can see is rage and strife.
The days grow cold and long.

My love seems far away from me,
Happily unaware and complacent.
Yet through a fog  my mind doth see
Shadows of dark reason reticent.

I can not help but turn my face
Away from bliss and joyfulness.
My love must never see the trace
Of lines formed by pain and bitterness.

How do I write a passionate poem
Abandoned by all I hold dear?
Where is the rose lined path I roamed
Before I succumbed to fear?

Close

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

Close

Close, my love, you are far away,
Thinking thoughts of another day.
Far from seeking touches tender.
Far from loving’s keen surrender.

Close, my love, I need to see you,
Open-handed, smiling as you do.
When you gift me with attention.
When you pull in my direction.

Close, my love, let there be no gap,
Let your arms around me wrap.
Hold me in your blithe embrace.
Hold me till my pulse doth race.

Close, my love, enter my halls,
Pulling down cold stony walls.
Tread fleetly to the inner chamber.
Tread fleetly to catch the biding embers.

Close, my love, warm my gelid room,
Chase away the dark and gloom.
Pull me into your thermal sphere.
Pull me into your thoughts sincere.

Close, my love, encompass me,
Make me see all that you can see.
Take me into your precious mind.
Take me where I will not be blind.

Close, my love, I am lost and needy,
Come closer to the heat of my body.
I want you as close as the very air.
I want you to be as close as you dare.

Close, my love, do not have a fear.
For I will whisper in your trembling ear,
Enchanted words to make you clearly see.
Enchanted words to bring you close to me.

The Vessel

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

The Vessel

Trapped in a vessel of earthly form
Into this fragile life we are born.
Shackled and chained in darkness kept
Alone in deep dungeons I wept.
No soothing voice to calm the fears,
No heavenly grace to halt the tears.
Oh, raise me up on angel’s wings
Yearning to hear a bell chorus ring.
Tolling the time has come at last
To leave the darkness in the past.

Oh, break the shackles, set me free!
Cut these forged chains binding me.
Throw the weapons on the ground,
Let them rust, never to be found.
Take up the song of the Cherubim
Reach out to the fiery Seraphim.
Power is in the fruit of the tongue,
Let the words of the soul be sprung.
Flowing like a stream of fresh spring rain,
Echoing the laughter from which it came.

Fill me up! Fill me up, overflowing with joy!
Worn from loving like a child’s favorite toy
I will speak my words into the night
Trading distrust for truth and light.
The dungeon will be a glowing pool,
Sweet water lapping,calm, and cool.
A pool of tears that I have cried,
A memory to remain after I have died.
Reminder to others trapped and forlorn,
To surrender your vessel to be transformed.

One, Two, Three, Ante Meridiem

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

One, Two, Three, Ante Meridiem

The sun must hold a secret power
For fortifying my resolve.
When daylight shines I do not cower
Strong and defiant I uphold my love.
But when the sunshine spell is past,
And dusky shadows fill my sight
Along with the dimming light I am cast
Alone and frightened into the night.

In the wee small hours, dark and long,
One, two, three, Ante Meridiem.
I can not find where I belong.
Sleep does not cause this restless dream,
Awake, my heart will not slow down.
Thinking somber thoughts of doubt and shame,
I glance at the moon whose worried frown
Keeps vigil over my piteous pain.

The early morning silence creeps
As if accusing me of secret crime
The honest man is in bed asleep
Dreaming dreams pure and sublime.
So does the early hour suppose
I am somehow dishonest and blind?
And would my bleary eyes be closed
If I lived a life more righteous and kind?

Torment me no more tonight!
Please, still my raging thoughts.
Let the peace of a new day’s light
Eradicate what the night hath wrought.
I can not live a moment more
With doubt and black thoughts of despair.
I will cast them from me. fling open the door,
Let in hope and the dawn’s sweet air.

The Temptress

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

The Temptress

While you lie beside me in peaceful slumber
I caress your soft curls with my hand
Scent wafting up like a spice island.
All is tranquil, till I remember.

The Temptress waits for a new day.
Her vials and needles make a way
For My Love to fade and leave my side.
She takes you on a wild and perilous ride,
Forgetting vows and consequences
Once her enticing dance commences.
I can only be there afterward
When she is done and throws you to the curb.
She sneers and tells me I can not break her hold
She will not give you up till you are lifeless and cold.
She lifts your face and I see the need,
Her lilting song is all you heed.

The Temptress waits for a sullen night
When dark moods fall and dim the light.
She calls you when you are alone
Out on the streets and far from home.
The aroma of spices cling to her gown,
In ropes of silk she will have you bound.
Smiling while she takes your hand
Promising a wondrous peaceful land,
A land where despair hides in the shadows,
Full of tonight and no tomorrows.
But dawn will bring the demons back,
Tomorrow arrives forsaken and black.

But as tomorrow is reborn
I will fight The Temptress who holds the cords.
Cutting you free with a double-edged sword,
Standing with you to face the dawn.

I will stand and expose your enemy.
To win your battle I will give you my strength.
To help you I will go to any length.
But I fear you love her more than me.

And if you choose the tempting fiend
My heart will break never to mend.
The love of a lifetime will bitterly end.
I will wake tomorrow from my pretty dream.

But if you choose the uphill climb
I will be beside you if you stumble
Helping you over the rocks and rubble
To a land of tomorrow green and sublime.

The Laughter of Love

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

The Laughter of Love

Funny how love is surrounded by laughter.
It starts with a joke and a wink,
An attempt to be thought of as clever,
The opportunity is gone in a blink.
When the love catches
Nothing else matches
That first smile forever after.

You fall in love so seriously.
You quake with fearful thoughts.
Then the one that you love, heedlessly,
Tells you a limerick they were taught.
You can not help but wiggle
The rhyme makes you giggle
Your fears disappear mysteriously.

And when the storm clouds do appear
And the raging winds do blow,
A bit of laughter makes it clear
That storms will come and go.
But love will find a way
To turn tragedy to comedy
Laughter makes for joyous tears.

Tempestuous Hearts

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

Tempestuous Hearts

You went to Paris on your own
To work on a strange new case.
Two men in a sabotaged boat did drown
In the Seine, of the killer there was no trace.

I was recovering from a wound
You insisted I stay and rest.
Your argument appeared to be sound
Though to thwart it I tried my best.

The first day I wandered about our home
Cleaning up forgotten corners.
It never bothered me to be alone
I missed Mrs. Hudson and thought of her.

I started a letter to the sweet old lady
Catching up on my correspondence.
My page and my pen were at the ready
When I suddenly felt so despondent.

I never missed anyone like I missed you
I am embarrassed to tell any one.
The air turned to smoke and the sky so blue
Had turned to night beneath the sun.

I could not breathe, I could only groan
Happiness was sucked from my life.
I hung my head and pitifully moaned
Missing you had brought intense strife.

How could a man like me fall apart
In a few hours without My Dear?
What had become of my stalwart heart?
I shook with a nameless fear.

Missing you should not cause physical pain.
As a Doctor, I tried to abate
These ridiculous thoughts, nothing to gain
By being in such a cruel state.

I took a walk but all was gray
A thunderstorm turned the sky black.
How would I last two weeks and a day
Or more till My Dear came back?

I heard distant thunder and headed inside
Ten hours and I was a wreck.
I cursed my want of personal pride
When missing you I appear to have a lack.

The evening rolled in and so did the storm
It raged in the heavens above.
I sat and shivered even though I was warm
Afraid not of  thunderstorms, but of our love.

The lightening struck, the thunder cracked
The door flew open wide,
And there in the doorway hooded and cloaked
Stood My Dear, and I let out a sigh.

It was the Mother! I knew half-way there!
You shouted, while I smiled,
I grew so worried, I missed you so much
I rode back through the rain for miles.

You tossed your cloak with dramatic flare
You pulled me into an embrace.
In that embrace I put all that I dared.
How I missed you showed on my face.

What will we do with this love so terrible?
Seems we can never be apart.
This love is so strong it makes us tremble
We love with tempestuous hearts.

Fever Dreams

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

Fever Dreams

On a case in Paris, I injured my arm.
Weary, I traveled home to Serignan.
Although Holmes took care of my every whim,
I succumbed to infection in the offended limb.
I heard the cousins crying out in despair
“Pauvre John! Courageux John!” filled the air.
I smiled at the outpouring of sympathy
They supplied me with pillows and herbal tea.
But a fever drove me out of my head
I remember weird dreams as I tossed on my bed.

In the first I was back at Baker Street.
Dear Mrs. Hudson I expected to greet
But at the door was a strange little man
With a mathematics book in his hand.
He was a Professor with a maddening stare.
He wore a gown like graduates wear.
The book he held began to grow tall
The pages turned into a waterfall
I fell into a chasm and started to drown.
The mad professor looked on with a frown.

I woke with a start shivering with chills
I still thought I was drowning until
A soft voice told me ’twas only a dream.
It felt so real I wanted to scream!
A warming drink was put to my mouth
I still felt like I needed to shout,
“Holmes stay away from the man with the book!”
But Holmes just gave me a comforting look,
“I am right beside you, you will come to no harm.”
I remembered the fever and my injured arm.

The second dream came in the night
My head was hot, my throat was tight.
I dreamed about a winding stair
I was looking for Holmes, but he was not there.
I climbed the stairs for hours upon hours.
‘Twas in some sort of medieval tower.
Every seventeen steps there was a rose red
I gathered them all, they covered my bed.
My bed was a coffin at the tower’s top
In the coffin was Holmes, my breathing did stop.

“Breathe, breathe, John Watson!” I heard my name.
Holmes’ voice was urgent and tinged with pain.
I thought it was best to do as I was told
A cloth on my chest was damp and cold,
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.
Holmes and the cousins breathed a relieved sigh
I felt exhausted, but the fever had broke
I smiled and attempted a feeble joke.
Holmes asked me a question when the cousins had gone
“Did you have fever dreams?” I said, ” I had none.”

Soldier in Paradise

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

Soldier in Paradise

I am a Soldier loyal.
My vows to defend the royals,
My country and my Queen
Have become a distant dream.
I have never run from anything
Yet here I am in France in the Spring.
I should be contemplating my gun
Go out like a Soldier with the setting sun.

I am a Soldier brave.
I am here in fact to save
My loved ones from our enemies.
I would rather bring them to their knees
Cursing the day we ever met
Knowing I would never relent
Would track them to their evil den
And rid my England of the devilish men.

I am a Soldier true.
I do what is hard to do.
But here I sit under an almond tree
Eating the lunch you packed for me
Sipping the wine I am helping to make.
Planting new vines, pausing to contemplate
Trimming the old that are starting to green
Why should I spoil this idyllic scene?

I am a Soldier invalid.
My wounds and scars can not be hid.
Some would say I paid my dues
Earned the right to live how I choose.
But when does a heartfelt vow end?
I never announced I would no longer defend
The virtues  I upheld, the things I hold dear,
A life half-lived is a life lived in fear.

I am a Soldier,  just a man
I search in the night and seek out your hand
A hand that holds mine in the dark
Till the dawn chorus of the Meadowlark
Your infectious laugh, your knowing smile
Make all my incessant worry worthwhile
I suppose all you really have asked me to do
Is be a Soldier in Paradise, loyal, brave and true.