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| An old gravedigger's love for the night brings him to the point of insanity. This poem is an exploration of insanity, derived from an obsession with beauty; in this case, dark beauty, embodied by the night. |
SUBMITTED BY: Darius
SUBMITTED ON: September 8, 2009 |
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| TYPE: |
| Poem |
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| GENRE: |
| Gothic |
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| DEDICATION: |
| The Night |
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| STORY: |
In a misty graveyard there once slumbered
A lazy digger whose days were numbered,
And whose lust for darkness grew to haunt his mind.
For a lover who may never kiss
Nor grant their spouse the simple wish
Of having some reply of any kind
Would drive the best of sane and stable
Ones to meet the root of Evil,
Or leave their own forgotten lives behind.
But this one did survive the test
Of time which lay many men to rest
And despair he still knows well in it’s cruel bind.
“Oh, Treachery, my love, I worship thee;
Cruel kin of Night, who follow thy ways.
For art thou both not one, in entity?
I live, and yet I know nothing of days,
Whose purposeless existence ever covets
Of thy beauty, charm, and wretchedness.
When will my desire ever summit;
Or falter to the far-off land of bliss?
Thou didst chain me to my cellar wall!
And I must never have known the better
Chained me, yes, and heard my final call!
And stared at me with cold, unmoving eyes,
That never from their mocking stillness rise,
Even when thou close my coffin pall.” |
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COMMENTS:
Rated on: September 12, 2009 8:47am by cryptkickerI love the cadence of your poem. It nearly bounces light-spiritedly along while the mood and story drip deeper and deeper into darkness. Beautiful dichotomy. Thank you for sharing it!
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