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Abstract

="ea59"><b><i>The feeling is overbearing. I’m not half or whole. A rich inky dream I’m in And a searching of the soul.</i></b></p><p id="8ddb"><b><i>The copper taste of blood is sharp. As I try to smile My head spins with nausea. Resolve falls in a pile.</i></b></p><p id="cd42"><b><i>Tactile signals intensify Memory crowds into the senses A soft pillow smooth as willow Touches without pretences.</i></b></p><p id="1c91"><b><i>The sound whispers deep in my soul. A ragged, rasping, breathing The air is a rare commodity. Another heart is near beating.</i></b></p><p id="6263"><b><i>A blinding light lit up the scene. The morning sun had rung. Reverberating in my head It was far from fun.</i></b></p><p id="fd2b"><b><i>A trance and blind man folly Encap

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sulated in a bad dream The room looked just the same. I was letting off some steam.</i></b></p><p id="a209"><b><i>Times and signs of yesterday Before I saw the light And the agony of the army Drifts slowly out of sight</i></b></p><p id="bc1f"><b><i>©</i></b></p><p id="1df2"><b><i>David Rudder 2023</i></b></p><p id="c5d1"><b><i>Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry. If you enjoyed this and wish to read more, join Medium for only US 5 a month or US 50 a year to access all my stories and poems and thousands of other poets and writers and use this platform to publish and earn from your pieces, poetry, photos, and reports. <a href="https://davidrudder.medium.com/membership">https://davidrudder.medium.com/membership</a></i></b></p></article></body>

The Darkness

Seems impenetrable.

Photo by Simon Berger on Unsplash

The darkness seems impenetrable. Black blinds drawn over the windows Groping around, and nothing found My senses are hidden under my pillows.

Waking from a dark dream I was surprised to find out the location. Senses sharpen without eyesight. I am seeking a position in translation.

The feeling is overbearing. I’m not half or whole. A rich inky dream I’m in And a searching of the soul.

The copper taste of blood is sharp. As I try to smile My head spins with nausea. Resolve falls in a pile.

Tactile signals intensify Memory crowds into the senses A soft pillow smooth as willow Touches without pretences.

The sound whispers deep in my soul. A ragged, rasping, breathing The air is a rare commodity. Another heart is near beating.

A blinding light lit up the scene. The morning sun had rung. Reverberating in my head It was far from fun.

A trance and blind man folly Encapsulated in a bad dream The room looked just the same. I was letting off some steam.

Times and signs of yesterday Before I saw the light And the agony of the army Drifts slowly out of sight

©

David Rudder 2023

Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry. If you enjoyed this and wish to read more, join Medium for only US $5 a month or US $50 a year to access all my stories and poems and thousands of other poets and writers and use this platform to publish and earn from your pieces, poetry, photos, and reports. https://davidrudder.medium.com/membership

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