THE NIGHTMARE

A roly poly figure sat smugly on a wall

Blissfully unaware of every strident screech and croaky call

 Who was that with cascading curls, wearing a red hood?

Ah, she looked so innocent and good

Why was that ominous shadow hovering around?

 Stealthily walking towards her making no sound?

He looked this way and that way

 Yes the sky had become grey.

 In discomfiture utter, he sat on the wall

  The darkness deepened, unheard went her beseeching call.

From the thicket emerged a rabbit wearing a bowler hat

Deep in conversation with a wiry man swinging a bat

With bags slung over their shoulders came pigs three

Was the terrific    threesome on a shopping spree?

Wondered the roly poly figure sitting on the wall

With their curly tails, and stumpy figures, they looked droll.

In tones of conspiracy they confabulated

In these whispers the man and the rabbit also contributed.

Were these impersonators  really thinking of changing the paradigm of politics?

Where every politician was indulging in double talk and bizarre dramatics?

 On the scene now came a weird figure, was he a king maker

 Or merely a conceited mover and shaker, or maybe a budding baker?

He was wearing supple tweed

 What was his ilk and what his creed?

  Behind him hopped a minion, wearing a coat of pure leather

 In his yellow cap a red feather

Now arrived a man with a moustache which was sleek

 He looked like an Italian, but was actually Greek.

 Towards a tree they raced under which sat a fortune teller

 Reading the fortune of an emaciated fruit seller.

This impressive star cast, filed past, in his mind creating a chaotic din

  A rat scavenged for something in a dustbin, on its face a hideous grin.

 A newspaper boy rode along mounted on a chugging moped

The figure scratched his head and shook with dread.

What gut wrenching news of hate crimes and gore

 Was in store, under his breath, he swore.

 Rapes, kidnapping, plane crash or murder

A chill ran up his spine and he did shudder.

 Against the backdrop of a steady drone

A shrivelled up dog hunted for a bone.

  A man with a gun kneeled in a sniper shooter’s crouch

While another pulled out something from a pouch.

 There were flecks of saliva at the corners of his mouth.

 He stood on his toes, looked around and then turned south.

Double, double, toil and trouble

 What was that tiny boy hunting for in that ruin and rubble?

His face was tear streaked, and his brow was troubled.

“Your brother? He is there in the heap”, informed the officer stubbled.

He felt himself falling, and tried to be calm.

Oh, his frayed nerves desperately cried for a soothing balm.

 Confusion was confounded, the situation looked grim

 Suddenly stentorian snores from all corners shook him.

By the snores astounded, the figure gave a sullen laugh.

  Vigorously shook himself and alas broke in half.

With the sound of his breaking, I was yanked away from sleep

  Feeling exhausted as though I had just finished a climb steep.

Why shouldn't I sleep when the world is also asleep?

Snoring away its problems, drifting into a sleep deep?

So I again slept, someone fiddled away in the distance, untroubled

 The fires raged and the cauldron bubbled.