Blood on the Roof

In the middle of doing a jigsaw for fun,
my electric decided to no longer run.
Power outage is hardly a visit from Hell,
but electric my door, and my windows as well!

So a prisoner me in the dark all alone;
and to make matters worse I was without my phone.
I then thought that old irony often has rights,
since my puzzle was Paris, the City of Lights.

Yet I had to admit that my Paris was black;
(without light I was subject to panic attack.)
Then I heard a weird tune that about struck me dumb;
it was one eerie melody borne on a hum.

(Who now hums in my dark with so eerie a theme?
  Are thy out-worldly spirit, or harsh inner dream?
  Is it custom for thee to add lilt to aloof?
  Will you add to my blindness with blood on the roof?)

Get a grip on it now, thus I said to myself;
grab the panic and stuff it up high on the shelf.
Fear reacts to the sound and stands ready to grow;
darkness does not require that it should be so.

I adjusted my eyes to my lightless abode
as a chill in my spine sought to urge panic mode.
That which hummed knew of eerie, of playing on fears,
as if cold clammy claws raked the thin of both ears.

(Without light I am left to such melody weird,
  prone to anxiety when this darkness appeared.
  I am hummed to in eerie, attaining a chill,
  hearing drops of red rain lap the side window sill.)

Ah, the wicked reside on the roof to be sure;
I breathed deep to seek calm or an ounce of a cure.
As I glanced to the right in this outré of strife,
my Toshiba blinked red due to battery life.

How those thoughts indistinct remain ready to streak!
The black shroud of anxiety does make me weak.
As I bumped my Lights puzzle, the pieces were strewn;
when the power returned, light remained sans the tune.

All that humming was mocking, inducing more scare;
(I admonished myself with a simple, “Beware.”)
Lots of fear can arise, I do fully concede;
but if we let it rule, then in darkness we bleed.


40 Lines
Anapestic Tetrameter
Writer’s Cramp Co-Winner
11-10-15