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The Dead Came Calling (The Manor and Mirror)

A ghost story....A manor haunted and told by the one haunted...(meant to read fast otherwise the rhythm is lost)

Through the door I heard him creep
moan his lost and lonesome cry
In the chambers of this keep
In the chambers of my sleep
Entering the halls within my ear
Echoing so none other but I, could hear.
 
Within this den
The hour same too never fail
I hear him claw his way from hell
I become this shade so pale
I cannot fathom but still I shall tell!
 
Out there the ocean I love hearing, hearing closely
yet still fearing
a storm awakens the un-wakable
Oh, terror unmistakable!
 
No heat! None that slips
as my breath falls from my lips
upon the waves roll ghostly ships,
the wind has bitter fingertips!
ocean manor and olden cliff
frozen time in ancient grip.
 
through old eyes I see their ending
over pending, ever sending
signals from the grave,
where the lord could not be saved
and the lady craven, never brave
their blood the crew was paid to crave!
 
In this night they’ll always share
death was never so unfair!
The lanterns on my doorstep
Cast writhing shadows that are not there!
they live! They live!
As well as sin
Dead as well and dead within!
 
please keep their frigid hands from closing
around my heart where fear tis seeping!
Exposing shrill those imposing calls
Hear the speaking, as upward creeping
Through the floorboards of my halls.
 
They call with desperate hope tormented
Hearts long shattered and fragmented
within their gaze such horror find
and far behind their souls aligned
Oh! malignant they and not benign!
 
see their faces betrayal swept
within endless night we’ve never slept
these spirits had they some dark debt?
Oh what secrets sick, have these walls kept?
 
vengeful and distraught lashes she, my skin
yet her pain inflicted is from within
What savagery?
would my lady have me mend?
Defend I, from All?
Drowned faces callous and closing in?
 
the waves they speak, they speak in dread
fly away the dead! the dead!
through hazy figure in moonlight gleaming
I hear them screaming, never leaving
My faith ignore what evil bred
Fly away! the dead! the dead!
 
Those that serve
never deserve
what they come to know too late!
see those heads that there are?
upon my courtyard gate?
Stained with blood, with blood and hate
And there he rises oh so late
on the landing of the stair
The exacting moment of his fate
And loath he must with such despair
Oh with me? Just me?
must this he share?
 
a mouth hangs wide, morbid, ill
wider and wider said lips reveal
out comes screams and groans until
all that is left doth surely still,
horrify and testify
beneath what no mortal could call eyes!
 
As he moans and weeps
shadow fingers crawl
Oh please, oh please I’ve see it all
his shadow seeps, oh what is sleep?
to knees I fall or feet I leap?
 
Just when I fear I can heed no more
A shadow slithers, cross wooden floor
A finger?
Where points he?
To a curtain hanging upon a door?
A door so hidden from long before
And the tortured screams of first said lord?
Revealed did they, his wealth and hoard
and buried his corpse sealed beneath the planks!
And hers in pieces across the moor!
Her misery taunting these very banks
and those whoever dare to come ashore!
 
To set this manor aflame!
Upon its foundation stone the year and a curse engraved!
Within each window a phantom stares out
villainous and depraved!
Each painting on the wall depicts, a soul enslaved!
That rose!
within the garden grew red, from the blood that bathed!
This curse they brought their endless spawn
For the night marched on when came the dawn
Oh, before I knew what such foulness bred
Fly away the dead! The dead!
 
Oh. take heed my nerve
See there in that mirror close?
I reproach thee
Is it he?
tis that final ghost!
What hear I? Is it the specter I fear most?
This haunt less ancient and set apart
Be thy still! Thy twin of heart!
Could it be true that I am mad?
So alike to him I shake
I probe and pry for fools false hope
I grope! for solaced tract to stake
A final stand for doth it breaks
My sanity against his soothing grin.
That may I, so soon, mock?
My resolve is fractured with the shock
As rattle he every key within their lock
As the hour it chimes upon that clock!
Oh yes I know! scream I
The night is young, Forsake I not!
How long! I wail can this be fought?
 
 
Then tolls a silence so very brief
That have I no time for relief
Would know I any thrill but grief?
Long ruined is my disbelief
 
comes he now beside me, my prompt friend
and with him comes that chilling wind
      Unbroken still
But now my will
begins to bend!
 
How decrepit he runs to cliff from den
Casting himself into foam and brine
Same hour and place again and again
this mirror! is it his panicked guise not mine?
And in his reflection will come my fate?
 
Is it with my own likeness do I berate?
Is that the sneer of one escaping?
A mind that is not his own?
Do I know him? as well as myself?
Or is this my visage and mine alone?
How could I have ever called this home?
 
In my mirror so close I touch his face
Yes, such lucid sense I’ve long denied.
Instead this madness I’ve embraced...
 
look I am into his eyes, look does he into mine
Tis A glow? in these eyes could such life replace?
 
no, never, upon such eyes demented calm shall dine
In this mirror so close...
so close, indeed,  I touch his face
I drink the sense of his rational choice
I hear the salt and my tongue, its taste
within his eyes I sense his voice
“such sweet repose” whispered
is but a short and placid fall too grace
 
My flesh as brumal as yonder wraith
deranged and crazed they lash this faith
Before sunrise reaches the old time said
be I cold and wet
within a bed
And ashes will be all that Is left for a flame unfed.
Stop!
 
I say! Cease this laughter in my head
Wicked laughter of the dead
Those who know not of their death so clear
Walk alive, alive and near!
 
 
 
+—Myth there have been for ages told
Of this here dwelling many centuries old
like its many stones there, once compounded
To each brick laid, mortared with wretched tale
This was the last in a lineage long thought frail
and never to be, this chaos quelled
Each generation, a bane, anew was founded
Each heir it bred followed a cursed nail
Driven deep Into their Coffins breast
where ne’er ever do they rest—+
 
C.R.Stanger
 
2009
Revised for last time in 2019

The first huge part is from the man seeing the ghosts and the very last verse is almost a narrator...Are the ghosts real? The stories may or may not be but i figured they are ... and the family has been beset by curse or insanity? Is the man in the mirror perhaps his father or is it a distant relative? Who escaped by jumping off the cliff? Or is the man in the mirror only himself? Or is a spirit of someone who really killed himself from the same insanity he felt or have ghost really plagued the owners or descendants of the family with terror? Does he kill himself as well? Does he burn the house down?...i leave it open ended...im very aware of the Edgar a Poe feel...i dont like that its so much like it but thats my thing...the rhyme scheme and rushed panic feeling def. has his feel to it...but not on purpose..

Note ** all my poems are copyrighted and have codes to prove ownership ... While I doubt anyone here does this ..still have to say Don't steal other people's work wether a poem is good enough or not .... It's personal and directly speaks from the soul of the writer and to take their work and say it's yours ..it's wrong and unnatural ..your stealing a peice of them ...it's nothing to do with money or rights...it's so much more than that...its happened to me .. It can happen to anyone .. It hurts and I always speak out against it even if to most it seems pretentious...

#blood #Britaincoast #brutal #buriedalive #candle #chaos #claws #corpse #curse #dark #death #death #familyinsanity #fire #ghost #hauntedhouse #haunting #hell #history #insanity #manor #mercenaries #mirror #mirror #murder #mutilation #Ocean# #panic #panic

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