Page: Profile: Poetry
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VxPoem ID: 39518
Posted: January 4th. 2011 2:02:41 PM
Age Group: Adult
September 18th 1990
Thrice the distant, hollow knocking
echoed in the stagnant darkness
deep, from reaches past the churchyard
on this hour, most sublime…
Thrice the muffled call of Heron
cackled course from stagnant waters
near the moon-pool, still, reflectant,
whispering tales from other times.
Still the shadow of the gallows,
gently swinging in the moonlight
and the midnight sounds of creatures
brush the shivers ‘cross my spine.
Silent, past the crumbling priory,
past its charred black, charcoaled timbers,
ghastly thoughts of phantom rituals,
shadows race throughout my mind.
Somewhere from the blackness peering,
Soul-less things are slowly forming
from the inky water rising,
onwards to the village wall.
Hear the phantom in the branches
lifted by the wind nocturnal
soaring o'er the sleeping hamlet,
hearken to its distant call.
Shiver as the drowned maiden
slowly rises from the water,
pallid features in the moon-glow,
silently, her footsteps fall.
Glance the fragment shape of phantoms
in the corners of my vision,
hear their strained and ragged breathing.
Turn to find no one at all.
Feel the wraithlike touch of blackness
brush my soul, my hackles rising.
Search the path ahead for spectres
(knowing they behind me tread) .
Thus I go alone at Midnight,
final eve of dark October,
On this Hallowed eve of Autumn
Eve unearthly tales are bred.
Hark again! That hollow knocking,
(Thrice repeated in the distance) 
holds a most unnatural tenor,
tainted thoughts form in my head.
Is this the source? Beyond the churchyard,
‘neath the weatherworn sepulchre?
Entombed within this mausoleum?
(beneath the catacombs I dread!)
Dancing `midst the solemn graveyard,
goading, glaring from the tombstones,
Beings made of dust and cobwebs
whisper taunts and fiendish lies.
Dare I touch this marbled surface?
Dare I pry the rusted iron?
Dare I learn which lies beneath me?
Dare I meet what Death defies?
… As in answer, from the village
sounds the chiming of the town clock,
fleeting signs of dawn approaching
stretch in tendrils `cross the sky.
Melting into ashen greyness,
dwellers of the darkness flee me,
As the daybreak’s iridescence
does the coal of night defy...
...yet dawn ultimately leads to the return of dusk, then again night...
Author's Notes: This poem was coyly written on the same meter as Poe's Raven, but crafted to play upon the superstitious fears held by Muggles during their common observance of Halloween' (if only they really knew ;)
 Alluding to quote from "Rime of the Ancient Mariner"
by S.T. Coleridge C.1798 on All Hallow's Eve
 Alluding to Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven"
 Alluding to November 1st ~ All Soul's Day
Author's Location: Lake Stevens, Washington
More Poems: Michael has posted 7 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Michael - Click HERE
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