Ben Millstead

Ben Millstead Poems

Once I ponded, simply wondering.
A rest, my head on a pillow of plundering.
My dreams, being taken from me.
My dreams of blundering.
...

As the old, dirty ship floated towards the bank.
Moss and slim covered every plank.
'Iv not been to London in years'.
I murmured as my heart sank.
...

The Best Poem Of Ben Millstead

Old Glass Window

Once I ponded, simply wondering.
A rest, my head on a pillow of plundering.
My dreams, being taken from me.
My dreams of blundering.

A faint tap on my window, awoken in a daze.
A peak at the night sky, vision filled with haze.
Through the window I saught to see, someone looking back at me.
At last, nothing, fog as deep as a mist, looking into a maze

The darkness staring back at me, a colorless man in the mist.
Cold air, the open window breathes a fine breath on my wrist.
Regretting being so haste like into bed, awoken by an annoyance such as this.
Shutting the window, laying my head to rest soon to find the tapping will consist.

Hearing this patting, from something faintly tapping.
Not man nor beast, what is making this rapping.
I vainly thought to borrow, helpless in this need for morrow.
Something made the tapping, of this I am sure.
Lusting for morning, too see the daylight of tomorrow.

'Is someone or something out there' I casted on the endless road outside my window.
'Be you man or transient being get off my property' but only one word was murmured.
The word was a name, a name that left me a widow.
The wimpered name 'Veronica' memories of a girl standing there akimbo.

Startled, bewildered unsure what just replied I ask.
'Be thee an angel or devil? ' no reply, though whatever replied must be listening again.
Lurking around this ever ending road with a facade, a mask.
It was a crafty thing, set to its own diabolical task.

The night must be depriving me of my sanity.
Sitting on my chair, counting through many volumes of forsaken law
Suddenly from my room the tapping, that maddening tapping, I cannot bare the inhumanity
'Be this human or beast leave my house now! , for this home is no home for an evil entity'.

Again, but an aching silence, the only sound is but that bitter sound of the tapping glass.
Pearing out of the window, hearing the tap but seeing nothing but dirt and grass.
Waiting, watching, pleading for this slow devious tapping to pass.
Thoughts of panic, my feet feel stone and my sweat has weight like brass.

Pacing to my room, this tapping must be stopped.
Slamming open the window, glass cracked and popped.
'I know your there, please go pester another being, cut me from your life please let mebe cropped'
Again but a cold breeze across my body, like an ice across my face was mopped.

'What of this girl? what of this acient memory? '.
Nothing was seen, but a faint voice scorched.
'You left me in a state of depression, of treachery'.
'Whatever joke you must be playing, a scares joke of devilry'.
Speaking to the endless madness of the dark thats, penury.

Nothing in sight but a fine mist, plaguing over an endless wire fence.
Fog, from back to front becoming enclosed, dense.
Left with nothing left but my own sanity falling, smashing into segments.
This unbareable nostalgia from former events.

Winds blow through the opening, shattering the already cracked glass frame.
Fog now pours into my room, only fog and dust remain.
Murmured again the forgotten name 'Veronica'.
'I do not deserve this, please leave I am not the one to blame'.

The warmth of my body, dissapearing until nothing's left but a cold empty sensation.
Lurching into the fog, light headed with anticipation.
No noise nor visions of anything but a white mist, seeming of an endless duration.
At the feeling of emptyness, of deprivation.

Feeling like an old man, I stagger to the door way, moving into my study, closing the door.
Sitting in the chair, watching the door, fog is seeping through between it and the floor.
Again the uttered name 'Veronica' has come into my mind.
Jerking to the wall, tripping over my feet, infront of me a book with the writing 'Forsaken Law'.

Gathering to my feet, holding the book infront of me, looking at the back of the book.
Reading 'She died for the man', the fog enclosing when I look.
Knowing now im damned to my fate, the lost name 'Veronica' is spoken again.
The last remaining minutes of my sanity slip, I was as bent as a hook.

A different word was mutter'd this time the word 'hell'.
Now I understand, their waiting for me down there, theres nothing I can do.
'LEAVE ME ALONE! ' in a desperate attempt I yell.
The fog never to leave, in thought of the after life, of knowing what is to become im damned to dwell.

Falling to the floor, nothing more to do but wait for the evil I will befall.
The words whispering 'Veronica', 'Hell' coming from the hall.
Deprived, empty and lonley, I bring my knees to my chest, curling in a ball.
Nothing left in my life but to know where im going after, my life so big just become so small.

The girl I use to know, has come back to tell me where to go.
As I lay here ponded, simply wondering about that time long ago
Shutting my eyes for the last time, ready for the eternity that will bestow
A noise, a faint tapping, just a tapping is heard, in my room, on my broken old glass window.

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