Nightmare

Summary

The poem "Nightmare" describes an eerie encounter with a death-like figure that leaves the speaker in a cold sweat, clinging to life.

Abstract

The poem "Nightmare" unfolds a haunting narrative where the speaker recalls a ghostly visitation during the night. A cowled figure, reminiscent of death, beckons from outside the window, its presence both chilling and familiar. As the figure occupies itself with a rocking chair, the speaker deciphers a message written by moonlight, which demands their acquiescence to death. The speaker vehemently rejects this call, asserting their will to live. The poem concludes with the speaker waking from the nightmare, their body drenched in sweat, as if they have narrowly escaped death's grasp, only to find the spectral note still present, a grim reminder of mortality's inescapable claim.

Opinions

The speaker perceives the cowled figure as an ominous presence, symbolizing death.
There is a sense of personal confrontation with mortality, as the speaker questions whether the figure is a separate entity or a part of themselves.
The act of writing and responding to the note represents the speaker's struggle to assert control over their own life in the face of death.
The imagery of the "scarlet sun" and "sweat soap" suggests a visceral, physical reaction to the fear of death.
The poem conveys a defiant stance against the inevitability of death, with the speaker refusing to succumb to its call.
The final realization that the note remains, indicating overdue "rent," implies an inevitable appointment with death that cannot be permanently evaded.

Nightmare

Listless, calling sheepish I remember a languid digit on A figure cowled, dark and lonesome, Soaking up the moonlight, Beckoning me through my window, With a crooked little hunch. Did I surmise from the disguise That it was you, or you were me? Hammering a litany to my door, You skittered back and forth, Took up the rocking chair on the porch And set about tipping fore and aft.

While you were preoccupied With repetition, soothing bodily aches, I read your scrawl by silver moon slivers Penetrating through the trees to my door, And felt my heart hit rubber knees.

I grabbed the note in darkness full, And responded, fearful and certain, You cannot have me. Take your scythe and kindly leave. There is no place for you here. I awoke in a bed bath drawn in scarlet sun, Sweat soap poured on soggy skin. My knees, still noodles al dente; Knowing if I threw them at the wall They would stick, just like The note, still on my front door. The rent is past due.