Buried Horror

Buried Horror

Sunday 20 January 2019

Of Unfilter'd Brews

By Yavar Khan Qadri

It is hard to forget,
that  dreadful night;
when I  chanc'd upon a cave
that was hidden from sight

I had ventur'd inside
with a bit of fear,
exploring something
that wasn't there,

Inside stood a woman,
with a wooden ladle,
sweetly whispering to a pot,
as if to a cradle

The sound was melodious,
such as from a lyre
except that the pot
was sitting on a fire


The broth kept boiling
with endless motion,
as she kept mixing
her mysterious potion,

The turgid abomination
then slowly grew
with spirits emanating
from that brew,

of bats, cats,
mice, and shrew
and many other creatures
that I hardly knew

Then came forth
an ancient druid
who started to add
some vascular fluid

I just could not
believe my eyes
as the cave started to echo
with wails and cries

I tried to run
as fast as I could
‎to find an escape
in the nearby wood

‎only to find that
my legs wouldn't move;
‎a spell was on me,
stuck like glue

Still, I gave it
a one last try
and woke up in bed
with a deafening cry

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 groupAbove 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.

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