furnier

One of my macabre poems, I'm in the mood to share, and macabre is the only kind I write. Enjoy. = )

Dark Nights
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I am a man of simple means,
one not easily shaken,
but on a cold and dreary night,
in blood my soul was taken.

So hark, say I, and hear my tale
a tale of death and woe
and fear, say I, the darkest nights
and tales of long ago.

Once, when I was lost and weary
adrift in times gone by
I came upon a lonely crow
who, smiling, caught my eye.

"Good day." Said he, and tipped a wing,
his manner strangely kind.
"Sit down and talk awhile." said he,
"and say what's on your mind."

And so I sat, in reverant awe
of this birds tactful speech,
for where had he, so plain a crow
surpassed a caw or screech?

"Begin." Said he, "By telling me
why you walk this path alone.
He laughed. "For most who come this way
are dragged and naught but bone."

Twas at his words I thought to fear
this oddity of life.
For what if in his feathered grasp
I'd suffer pain and strife?

"But please." I bade him, "tell me where
this path I travel leads.
I've lost my way and know not how
to satisfy my needs."

"What needs are these?" He merrily crowed.
"The way you go is short."
He shrugged and eyed me cautiously.
"Oh, we will have much sport."

I shivered, stood and stepped away.
"Tis warmth I now need seek."
and he, with movement never seen,
in my heart did plunge his beak.

Somehow, through layers of flesh and bone
he still found room to talk.
as my life's blood did color the path
a hue of burnished chalk.

"It is not personal." Said he.
"But pain must have it's place
and you, sir, have not suffered much
from the look of your sorrowless face."

I felt him burrow deeper in,
in search of something young
and to that thing he reached out for
I, most desperately, clung.

A pain, like none I'd ever known,
blossomed in my chest.
Tears dropped like ice from colder eyes
and I begged him, "Let me rest."

When finally he did show his head,
eyes burning lumps of coal,
he sadly smiled and let me know
he had taken my soul.

"Fear not." Said he, atop my chest.
"You have not long to wait.
Death will come soon, I promise you.
That one is rarely late."

"Farewell." He cried. I could not move,
and he soared into the sky.
"I'll see you soon, for pain's a door
and may teach you how to fly."

I was dead and reaped soon after I think,
though when I do not know.
but always fear the darkest nights
and tales of long ago.