Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

The Nightmare

by Mary Hannah

Awaken from thy peaceful sleep,
The morning bright within my sight
And it is real, and memory creep
Of my vision of horror filled light,
Only seen in times of darkest sleep.
 
Lenore, my beauty, my loved one,
Tell me it is not true, that you
Are, by the Devil, to be won
And dragged to the darkest deep blue
Depths of hell, that you did not fire the gun.
 
Oh, the gun with sweet, golden hilt
Sing to me, sing loud, sing clear who
Shot, and made my radiant rose wilt,
Who took upon themselves to pursue
The likeness of my love, and feel no guilt.
 
And so Lenore, awaken from
Thy peaceful sleeping, and tell me
That my dream has no foundation
In truth, that you would not wish ill
On me, tell me that my sweet gun
Shall tell me no lies in revealing
Your intentions, which filled my sleep with
Horror, that my Lenore would
Wish me dead.

Added: 29.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

04.05.2011

Good sense of doom in this. Took a couple of readings to settle into it.

05.05.2011

Quite a traditional poem but I didn't like the archaic expressions (eg 'Thy') or predictable rhymes

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