Black Dog

Black Dog
James WF Roberts 

Dream—scapes dance upon this blank landscape
whispers of love, cannot be counted,

nightmares of joy, shadows of wonder;
and the scent of it, lingering on my soul.

It follows me down the city streets,
echoes down alleyways, and blocks my entrance
upon old blue stone steps, 
spewing forth with the rest of the regret
with the rest of the tumult; party-goers, 
revellers, lonely virgins
heartbroken minstrels, would-be serial killers, 
masquerading as poets, artists, singers in a band—and poets 
who are masquerading as the marquis de sade 

it sniffs me out, it dances in the shadows,
hides in the sunlight, it’s big dark eyes see all
it’s dark heart knows your deepest fears, 
flirts with my most depraved longings

he sniffs at me door, the long black coat, 
the cold gnarled hands
turn the handle, feast of eternity laid out before
us all, 

lying in the bed of Dawn
gorging myself on the sorrow of fate
cracked mirror
ashen face
spins the dice; sign the paper in the blood
of the innocent—the thing you may have once been
the thing I never was, nor could be.

The monsters all run away
they see what I am now…
they mark me in blood, their longing my desire
your fear my nourishment

didn’t you once wish to know me? 
What depraved act do you wish to commit?
Buying up love, as statues hidden in my garden

when could love come for me?
When will love depart us all?
In the glass I see the snorting snout
the thick furry clothes
the body, a bulk like a lumbering bear
am I now what I dread?
Am I now what I long for?
Am I now the black dog?



About jameswfrobertsdapoet

Emerging Poet and Writer. From Bendigo, Victoria, Australia. I present a show called Crazy Talk/Word Berserk, on I believe in what Phoenix has to offer. No where else will you get the diversity of Gospel, Country music shows, Koori themed shows and Poetry and Experimental music? My father, Bryan did a show on 3CCC in the 1980’s called the Keyboard Hour for a bout 8 years, until he died. That is partly why I joined Phoenix but mainly it’s because of the diversity we offer people and also I really do feel that we are an important vehicle, an important voice for the Community at Large. My interests are Poetry, Literature, Music, Movies, Cultural Awareness and Philosophical pursuits. My show is basically a Late Night Radio Show for Artists, Poets, Musicians and Creative Thinkers of all types to come and inform, enjoy, entertain and inspire each other. So join me and my guests from the local Artistic Community to be inspired, to be entertained and informed
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3 Responses to Black Dog

  1. Rashma N. Kalsie says:

    nightmares of joy—lingering on my soul! Loved imagery here. I have always wondered does love make poets turn sad? Just wondered, that is.

  2. Em says:

    I agree, the imagery is powerful – deeply creepy, very stirring… the black dog, depression; a bitterer sadness “spewing forth with the rest of the regret”. You’ve also captured the way such a feeling steals into one’s daily life as it pleases; the way “it dances in the shadows,/ hides in the sunlight”. Another theme seems to be the transformative, damaging influence of depression, (“what I am now”), highlighted by the last verse, but present throughout – how it can make depravity alluring and another’s fear nourishing; how it has potential to turn heartbroken minstrels into serial killers. The black dog is a recurring subject of literature and this chilling account captures both his menacing side and his insidiousness; a threat both external and internal. This is excellent writing… I only hope the existence of this poem is a symbol of victory over depression; awareness and mastery of the dark feelings to create art which has sincerity and resonance.

    • James WF Roberts says:

      No it’s more like a wallowing. It’s more like it’s not leaving. I wrote this piece on Friday night when i was on my radio show…a pre-cursor, a preamble to what would happen, it seems. and now i am here stuck in this path.

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