Comments 20


How often have you woken

a bolt

in our bed.

Eyes wide, lungs strangled

fighting for breath,

my watchman,

my lover,

my eyes in the dark,

how is it

that night now comes

to bore holes in your heart?

Once upon

another life you say.

You paced these streets,

these city streets,

let lanterns guide your way.

But now we have no lanterns,

and now you have no light,

and all my watchman is,

is afraid of the night.

Haughmond Abbey

This entry was posted in: Poetry


Carol J Forrester is a writer and a history geek. Her debut collection 'It's All In The Blood' came out November 2019. She has a 2:1 BA degree in history from Bath Spa University, enjoys judo at least twice a week, and tries to attend poetry events around the Midlands when she can. Her flash fiction story ‘Glorious Silence’ was named as River Ram Press’ short story of the month for August 2014 and her short story ‘A Visit From The Fortune Teller’ has been showcased on the literary site Ink Pantry. Her poems ‘Sunsets’ and ‘Clear Out‘ were featured on Eyes Plus Words, and two of her poems were included in the DVerse Poets Pub Publication ‘Chiaroscuro’ which is available for purchase on amazon.Her poem ‘Until The Light Gets In‘ was accepted and published at The Drabble and her poem ‘Newborn’ was published by Ink Sweat & Tears. She has been lucky enough to write guest posts for sites such as Inky Tavern and Song of The Forlorn and has hosted a number of guest bloggers on her site Writing and Works.


  1. I was wondering what made the watchman afraid of the night ~ Perhaps a terrible experience, perhaps a devastating loss, it seems a pity that he has lost the light ~

    Thanks for the lovely response ~

    • Thank you for the lovely comment. To be honest when I started writing this piece I was trying to write about the old London Watchmen who patrolled the streets before policemen, but it sort of shifted and became something else.

  2. Sad when a fearful, lantern-less watchman can no longer lead. Like your photo of church in ruins… religion without a relationship is empty. Thoughtful poem…thanks for linking with dVerse!

    • Thank you for the lovely comment. It’s actually a photo from Haughmond Abbey in Shropshire. I didn’t consider the analogy you just used until now.

  3. I also would want to know the backstory. The first part of the poem made me think of my husband who is so protective–sometimes to the point of making me crazy. My watchman.

    • Haha, it can be both lovely and infuriating to have someone who wants to protect you. When I was writing this piece I was actually trying to write about the old London Watchmen, but instead it became more about my Grandmother and her decline into dementia.

  4. Glenn Buttkus says

    A brilliant premise, & take on the prompt. So well written it can be interpreted several ways; what I read was that a husband has returned from war, & nightmares disturb him nightly, that fear has usurped solace, that his neural net is unraveled, & he is no longer the same man he once was.

    • That’s a really great interpretation and thank you for sharing it with me. This turned into one of those poems where I thought I was writing about one thing and then I’ve gone back to read it and realised it’s about something else entirely.

  5. True the light can go out..
    but a flame rekinDled
    WiLL burn
    ever before
    in Watchman
    delight in Light
    and sharing
    too always NOW..:)

    • Thank you for such a creative response. 🙂 It’s always lovely to hear people responding to my poems with their own.

  6. Great symbolism in this. It is quite sad to see the watchman afraid only of the dark and no longer able to share the light. Peace, Linda

  7. It is so interesting when different interpretations evolve. Mine was that of a husband who had lost hope, perhaps because of an illness. The flow of your poem was very nice as well.

Please take the time to tell me what you think, I love receiving feedback. :)

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