Nightmare #44

The banshee howls a hair-raising howl
as she peruses the succuba’s progress.
The latter crawls furtively under my fence
whilst the former distracts me with din
until panic sets in for both me and the hag
and that beastly but beautiful bitch crawls her way
through the dank dark to eat out my heart!


Nightmare #55

Two cars converged on a road, and I,
got smashed by both and here I die!
They cracked my ribs and crushed my bones,
left arms and legs flailing in the stones.
My head went whooshing into a tree
where it stuck, oh, woe is me!
Two cars converged on a road, and I
await my death with a lonely cry.

with apologies to Robert Frost


Nightmare #60

The bark of the trees turns a grisly grey-green
as I wander the forest at dusk.
Eerie sounds all around keep me on my watch
and I step about the night crawlers warily.
It all seems cool and crisp and dank
when suddenly branches wrap around me.
Their slimy fingers grip my arms and legs
and a thick vine encircles my throat!
I am clutched and clasped and squeezed all until
I see mucous escaping my nose, my mouth
gives up vomit, my eyes bulge out
but strangely no blood appears.
Then I’m tossed free, thrown to the ground,
as a wooden fist shakes at me, a warning!
The wind whistles lustily as I gratefully rise;
they have given me pause to ponder.
My slacks shiver off a night crawler or two,
as I run to the clearing I pledge
stewardship and care for our verdant companions…
so long as they allow me to live…


R. Bremner writes of incense, peppermints, and the color of time in such venues as International Poetry Review, Anthem: a Leonard Cohen Tribute Anthology, and Climate of Change: Sigmund Freud in Poetry. His most recent books are Hungry Words (Alien Buddha Press) and Ektomorphic (Presa Press).