In the Dark of the Night

In 1979, a friend challenged me to write a poem, on a whim, if you will, while she was there, at our house. Me, write a poem I asked? I can't even recite "Roses are Red" accurately, half of the time.

She said, "do it, right here, right now. You write well, if you write what is on your mind and you just sit down and write. This won't be any different."

Well, I've certainly never been accused of being a brain surgeon but even I was beginning to 'smell a rat.' So, I asked, "okay, what's up? I mean, this just didn't come out of the clear blue to come over here and have me, who is not known, for anything, least of all, poetry, write a poem. So, tell me, what are you leaving off here?"

She replied, "I belong to a group of literary poets and they came up with the idea to find some new material by instituting a contest. I immediately thought about you and I suspected if I approached you with the contest idea, you'd say no and that would be it. And I really wanted to get at least one person to do this, as I earn points toward getting a scholarship."

She was right about the contest stuff. I wasn't interested but I have a weak spot when it comes to helping others obtain something they really want and can use. Therefore, I sighed, got up from the table and fetched a pen and paper (she wanted to watch me write it so she could declare and know it was original).

I sat down and, seriously, thought for a minute. It dawned on me that we were less than a week from Halloween and at that point, I needed all the inspiration I could get, 'cause I really didn't have my heart in this. Two minutes later, I began writing and I didn't stop for six, maybe seven minutes. I reviewed what I wrote and while passing it to her, I said "well, at least you'll have an entry."

She took it and read. Then, looking up from the paper, she quietly said, "if I had not sit here and watched you write that, I'd never believe this came from you."

Well, to this day, I've not been real clear as to how I should have taken that. She got up, hugged me and left. Three months later (thereabouts), she stopped by, all excited and asked me if I had 'heard' yet? Heard what, about what I asked. I have no earthly idea as to what you're talking about.

It turned out that her little 'poet club' liked my poem so much, they entered it into a national contest for their 'main group' which they were 'sanctioned' by. There were several hundred entries from all over the place and well, mine came in second. She was so excited because the top three winners  were to go to Miami, Florida where each would be presented with an award, signifying their achievement. And she exclaimed..."and the award presenter will be none other than Vincent Price!" 

At this point, I figured she was either drunk or pulling my leg. And since she didn't drink, well, she was trying to pull a fast one on this old country boy. Only thing was, it turned out to be true. Not only that but the poem I wrote went into an 'analogy of poems' (I think that's what they called it) and ended up in a hardbound book (yes, I still have the copy of the book). 

As for Miami and meeting Vincent Price (that would have been a hoot), I had to place that on the 'back-burner.' I was right in the middle of jumping through some hoops to leave my job as a Deputy Sheriff and go to our local police department. I couldn't afford the time or loss of focus on getting my career headed in the direction I'd been working on.

She went and did the 'stand-in' thing and brought my award back to me. It was a nice certificate and something else. I truly don't recall what the something else was. At the time, I was more interested in not publicizing the idea that yours truly was a poet.

If you have read this far and wondered what the poem sounded like, here it is. And no, I've not made  a habit of writing poetry. 

In the Dark of the Night

I was in the house alone that dark dreary night
when first I heard the sound that made me shake with fright.

A thumping sound over and over again
sweat was pouring from me, I could not think over the din,

of that thumping sound I had not heard before.
I forced myself to move, thinking to lock my bedroom door

but the sound persisted, getting closer all the time.
I thought I would not make the night,
for surely I would go out of my mind

I locked the door and leaned against the wall,
my knees so weak, I sought not to fall

I now realized that the sound was in the room with me,
here I was all alone, with only that sound for company.

It was then that I heard that awful scream,
this was no joke, for no one could be this mean.

The scream ceased as I closed my mouth,
for it came from none other but myself.

The sound was gone too, this you won't believe,
the sound had been my heartbeat, I had been scared of me.