FA+
Shop
181
Views
Views
0
Favorites
Favorites
Category
Poetry / Human
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 119 x 120
File Size 339 B
Report this content
More from Metassus
A look at generational superstition.
oOo
A man walks down a lonely road
At night, his hand upon his sword
In fright. He prays hard to the Lord
He might live through ’til morning.
Who was that, there – among
The trees: a flapping sound heard on
The breeze, that makes him hold his ground
And freeze in terror, lest it finds him?
A Werewolf, ‘neath the silver moon
Perhaps, or Mummies from their tomb
In wraps, or Vampires spreading doom
And traps for victims new to capture.
Thus, panic-struck he wanders through
Alone, just like he had to do
At home, when small, he listened to
Dark poems and ghost stories.
At journey’s end he stumbles in
To light, and orders rounds of Gin
Delight – it starts to seep through him.
This night, he’s in good favour.
The fear has passed away for now
‘Tis plain, or would be anyhow
If sane and sober, disavowed,
from grain and spirit tempting.
When morning comes up with the Sun
That shines, well, he’s had lots of fun
This time. He has to walk, not run,
He’s blind from his hangover.
On his lonely way back home,
His son, on hearing Father’s groan,
Did come, to help Dad to the zone
When none could laugh down at him.
And on his knee his little child
Did sit; Spooky tales fierce and wild
He spit, of innocents beguiled
By “It”, the Evil Demon.
Wide-eyed now, the child is like
A cup, and his little tender mind
Filled up with superstition blind -
More Syrup for the Simple.
The young boy soon, a man full grown
And wronged; he comes in to his own,
So strong. A Gin! Parched as a bone!
Not long to the tavern local!
A man walks down a lonely road
At night, his hand upon his sword
In fright, he prays hard to the Lord
He might live through ’til morning…
oOo
Category Poetry / Human
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 119 x 120px
File Size 339 B
Wow. Such vivid, powerful words. Well done, my friend! *gives you a warm bearhug*
If you had sent this in to FurFright (www.furfright.org), a Halloween-themed furry con, we could have used that in the conbook. If you can, send some of your work in next year.
If you had sent this in to FurFright (www.furfright.org), a Halloween-themed furry con, we could have used that in the conbook. If you can, send some of your work in next year.
<nuzzle> Thanks, Belic, but it didn't exist until Poetigress's prompt last Thursday. :) It was the work of an idle lunch hour. But you can bet your bear-belly I'll consider it for next year. :) Hope the con is a blast for you - and don't forget it is we Irish who gave you Hallowe'en ™ in the first place!
Thanks to everyone above as well, the entire lot of you, for your kind words on the poem.
Thanks to everyone above as well, the entire lot of you, for your kind words on the poem.
Bet my bear-belly? *yelps and hugs his big gut protectively* But I don't want to lose it! Why don't I just bet my virginity, I lost that years ago . . . in a poker game! *laughs*
Thankee much for Hallowe'en, but I'm even MORE thankful for you providing the world with the very blood that courses through my veins . . . Guinness! *drools*
((A big chunk of me is Irish as well...though I won't say which chunk. *laughs and hugs ya tight*))
Thankee much for Hallowe'en, but I'm even MORE thankful for you providing the world with the very blood that courses through my veins . . . Guinness! *drools*
((A big chunk of me is Irish as well...though I won't say which chunk. *laughs and hugs ya tight*))
Comments