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The Steeple ghost
Contributed by
zenith66
on
Wednesday, 5th September 2007 @ 05:11:32 PM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
Dreadful tombs isolate the moony hills,
The olden crooked steeple rears her time devoured head,
Enthralling darkness permeates the vacant floors,
Thrilling every living soul that left its presence there,
And I stand amid its dreary fields,
Where morbid phantoms will congeal,
Every brooding window seems to glare,
There deadly knowledge quiet as night-air,
The ghastly towers twist upward into dark,
What terrible form resides inside the crooked lofty heights,
Does the fiendish eye look down into my reluctance,
Willing every fearful being into his nameless realm,
And I lean upon some lonely stone,
Frozen keeper of the bones,
The ever restless I hands of death,
Solely holds the key, to its discontented depths,
Every serpentine turret struck my timid heart with fear,
Toppling from the otherworldly sky strangely lacking stars,
Fantastical fears erupted with every fearful glance,
And my inner child there stood, still as the hour, afflicted with fright,
The steeples massive body and the field,
With the swooning leafless trees began to yield,
For sweeping through the night a frightful knell,
Resounding rusty monotones from within the towers bell,
And I’m creeping ’long the pebbled path,
The only break in endless grass,
This uncanny lack of light from the moon or any star,
The luminary absence only shakes my quaking heart,
Now I’m standing weakly at the ancient holy door,
Tarnished amber knobs are laughing coldly, I’m staring into moving eyes,
The timeworn spies of demonic usurpers waiting higher still,
A disturbing clang throws itself around as I rap the olden knockers,
No!!!….
Now the dreadful tombs are stirring
And the rattling wind is whirring
And the small vales surely burning
With some hell delivered flames,
Every ghoul is rightly staring
As I’m losing all the daring
That I came to this place bearing
This is just a childish game,
So I halted there, and turned to face,
The iron gate that kept the place,
But silence broke the nightmarish seen,
And all fell calm as it had been,
No sprits cried, the vales stood green,
No shadows crept from empty trees,
No skeletal horror clawed the dirt from its crypt
“Nothing haunts me here alone”
And he leaned upon the largest of the stones,
His name was etched into the rock,
His date of birth which he’d forgot,
Staring at his carven epitaph in sickly fright,
He felt all time and meaning sorely fall away,
His frozen ectoplasmic soul drifted sadly into night,
And he never yearned again to see the day…
Copyright ©
zenith66
... [
2007-09-05 17:11:32]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Steeple ghost
(User Rating: 1 )
by needledancing on
Wednesday, 5th September 2007 @ 09:11:41 PM AEST
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a Message)
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| Absolutely incredible write. Well versed and tantilizing to read. Wonderful refreshingly talented piece of work. |
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Re: The Steeple ghost
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Monday, 6th October 2008 @ 07:32:19 AM AEST
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My dear zenith. It is a shame that not more read and comment on your work.
I think you are one of the most underrated poets on this site! This is simply
brilliant!! It reads like a Hallowe'en write, even with the somber ending,
(which is very sobering I might add). I adore how you described the
area in the first group of verses and then the "souls" themselves in the
next, (which was completely creepy! lol) Damn, your talent just SCREAMS
in this!! You have a gift, my friend.
Exceptional work!! Truly ~
~ Breezy
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