Of Supernatural Storms

by Yavar Khan Qadri

On a dark,stormy evening,
In an old,rustic bar,
Arrived  a cloaked stranger;
His destination,still,was far,

As nature ran it's course.
With shattered windows ,
And swinging lamps,
The conditions got worse,

Trapped  in the town's old inn,
With nothing else to do,
The topic  turned dark as the weather;
Now,they talked about the djinn,

Amongst the  once sober  crowd,
The conversation changed direction,
The supernatural beings,imagined,
The rhetoric getting loud,

Frequenting the darkness around,
An eerie feeling,profound,
Superstition,on shaky legs,,
Was now resting on  stable ground,

Bolts of lightening ,nearby,
Followed by deafening thunder,
As in the  Bram Stoker novel,
The expressions torn asunder,

A strong wind ,too,was blowing,
Creating frightening sounds,
As if,from the depths of hell,
The Devil was making his rounds,

Then the stranger spoke up,
Tired of hearing  tales,
That traveled across the isles,
From Scotland,all the way to Wales,

Of goblins and ghosts,
He didn't believe,
Superstition and credulity,
Had taken his leave,

With no one sober for sense;
None knowing any better,,
They decided to prove him wrong,
About his firm skeptical fetter,

To the graveyard beside the hill,
He must go after dark,
And take with him a wooden peg,
To firmly make his mark,

And he agreed to the conditions,
To prove that he was right,
If,as a reward upon his return,
Gratis,he could stay for the night,

So they escorted him to the edge,
Of the place where the dead sleep,
And he disappeared into the mist,
Into the ancient graveyard,deep,

They waited for a long time,
But the  stranger did not return,
And,as superstition took over,
Towards the village they turned,

To come back at first light,
Morbid curiosity alight,
Burning was the desire to ascertain,
The weary traveler's plight,

What they found left them in shock,
And not because they found him dead,
But because they found his cloak,
Pinned to the ground,
With the wooden peg


Bio

I am of Kashmiri origin and I am inspired by the Romantic Period and I typically write lyric poetry in free verse. I am a member of The Ontario Poetry Society and the subject of my poem ranges from social (political to romantic, and the morbid. I believe in the healing power of imagination and I write in solidarity with the marginalized and oppressed thoughts and emotions of individuals and groups in society. I am an anarcho-syndicalist.

I have written poems for the Labour Movement (As printed on this year's May Day flyers, through the Toronto Airport Workers Council.) And I have been a guest speaker for a socialist group. Above all, I love writing about the morbidity in our thoughts and don't hesitate to bring it out on paper. Here's my blog: Acids of Thought.