Bleak

Google images with a lil editing... =P

Google images with a lil editing… =P

This has got to be my favorite poem that I’ve ever written, just saying. Or at least, it’s up there. That first statement was perhaps justified by the effort I put into writing this 144 line poem. XP Believe it or not, the entire thing was inspired from one word. It appears exactly three times in this post. I’m sure you can guess what it is. Anyway, this is a fairly lengthy narrative poem with an abstract story of mystery, intrigue, and darkness. Sounds exactly like me if I do say so myself. =P I’m really happy with the way it turned out and with the quality of writing. It sure took a long time. Anyway, that’s enough preamble. Enjoy. 🙂

Bleak
There are tales which are sometimes told
Of wraiths, of wrath, and woe,
And blankness so profound and cold,
It could rival even Poe.

Empty
He was as void as a simpleton’s mind.
He did not hear the mothers’ crying.
His face was etched with lines.
He heard and gave no sign.

Accusations
They told him he was depraved,
And that like a madman he’d raved.
They asked him if he was saved,
And through the bars for him they prayed.

Sin
He had failed to heed the law they said–
He had list’n’d and not obeyed.
He had pushed them much too far they said–
He had done what they forbade.

Death
Someone had died; he could hear her call.
She had been killed; he had seen the pall.
They told him he had made her crawl
Over knives and nails, and her gall.

Night
The moon was out; the stars were bright.
They cast on the ground an elysian light
Which was cold to touch, though fair to sight,
And black at heart though shining white.

Cold
He shivered in the temperature drop.
Both inside and out it would not stop.
It bit him as he bit mutton chop,
And on his ice-covered skin it hopped.

Frozen
The wind and snow froze his heart
Like the blizzard outside the mart.
The storm inside tore him apart.
It was just a simple shopping cart.

Body
In the locked meat locker, they looked.
She dangled there on a hook.
Her body cold – a code – cooked.
At her feet there was a book.

Crime
They said he’d broken the law.
Men hit him in the jaw.
They beat him till he was raw.
He looked and saw death’s maw

Murder
Killer, they breathed in his ear,
Over and over again, as if he could not hear.
It’d been what? A year.
In his blank heart they built up a cold fear.

Evil
He was sinful they believed.
Ironically they were as bad as he.
Deep inside him he felt grieved,
But when he begged mercy she denied his plea.

Guilt
Remorse filled his soul.
Regret chilled him like cold.
Real pain made a hole.
Repent’s what he was told.

Void
But really there was nothing inside,
For it had all run off to hide.
And though many methods they tried,
He never ever cried.

Air
Zephyrs of mist stalked shades and sprites
While fog ensconced the starry night.
Then through the vapor shone celestial lights
Which ignored the lady’s desperate plight.

Breeze
Gentle winds caress her curls,
Nescient of the fate to unfurl.
Around her neck are twenty pearls.
In the distance there sounds a merl.

Chill
A shiver stalked down her spine.
The clock struck its nightly nine.
Dread– Oh! She needed a stronger sign.
Death ceased to remain benign.

Graves
Now entombed in earth she lies,
Her life surrounded by mystery and lies.
Her death more so, for it implies
For the deed he had no allies.

Night
When darkness takes hold and paints the sky black,
When astral beings seem to flout the almanac,
When of wrongful doings there is no lack,
Then the predator hunts and the prey guards its back.

Forgotten
He cannot remember what he did–
All he knows is sin he hid.
They tell him all that he did–
They know everything he hid.

Nefariousness
He’s diagnosed as mentally insane.
The darkness rules in his brain.
For some strange reason he can feel no pain.
The source of his sin is arcane.

Remorseless
Turned as cold as gneiss and marble,
Their words to him are a garble.
He would not be scared or startle.
He didn’t even fear the harmful.

Amnesia
He had no power to recall.
Is it they who’d made his mem’ry stall?
All he saw was a lengthy hall.
It was like in his mind there loomed some wall.

Black
Obsidian-colored sky overlooked the scene.
The moon’s gleam made it no more inviting.
One figure dragging another remained unseen,
And passed betwixt shadows with no sighting.

Dark
An impenetrable blackness lurked inside the building,
Awaiting poor souls fooled by its home’s satin paint gilding.
As the night grew older, blood from the mall’s walls came spilling,
And sought every person’s heart with the chill of a killing.

Funeral
Sombre raiment pronounced grave eulogies.
Sorrowful clothes intoned sad elegies.
Black dress suits were beneficiaries.
Blue uniforms signified deputies.

Morbid
Why had he gutted her?
Would his actions recur?
Why’d he the blood transfer?
Had he– dissected her?

Torture
Shrieks drew scars in his mind.
He hadn’t left her behind.
Every step he’d defined.
To her pain he’d been blind.

Monster
He couldn’t run; they were in pursuit.
They called him a beast and a brute,
Assured him that he was the root.
The pain he’d caused them was acute.

Shiver
He jumped and spasm’d as they tortured him,
And stopped when his eyes grew dim.
They didn’t halt, but with their faces grim
Pushed him to the very rim.

Ice
He had to preserve his ultimate try.
In ice he left it with a sign,
A beacon to call those who’d hear his cry,
A hope they’d understand his mind.

Memory
Years ago he’d forgotten.
Now it was autumn.
His case was not uncommon.
He’d had no pardon.

Blank
The wall before him was bare,
And at her face he’d forever stare,
Because none knew of her glare,
And they did not remember her lair.

Colorless
Age had stolen his pale color away.
Soon too in the grave he would lay.
His life worse because of his last foray,
He never saw the light of day.

Stars
Then, as the lights twinkled from their blank canvas,
Each an emblem of the odds against his chances,
The planets continued in their trip through blackness,
And here ends this serial story of stanzas.

Bleak
There are tales which are sometimes told
Of wraiths, of wrath, and woe,
And blankness so profound and cold,
It could rival even Poe.

Tours yruly

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6 thoughts on “Bleak

  1. Nice! I like this poem. Very long and disjointed, but that allows for a bunch of different interpretations. (I came up with a few myself, which i’m sure were partially incorrect XP)
    Great job =) always gotta have dat good ol’ drear! ;D
    Anna B.

    Like

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