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Compassionate Group Title

I wrote a Gothic-style poem. It's not complete yet. Rates and c-c are appreciated. Enjoy.

  • one year ago
  • one year ago

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    "Sometime ago, by a byway path, next to a shoal bay, In a castle lived me and my sweet maiden Jade. We were lovers as to say, For I loved her and she loved me in those days, She was the only thing I adored, We were lovers as to say, And nothing more. Vaguely, I recall an image pressed inside my mind, Ah, yes, it was midnight showing only the torch light, Winds blew about the night which were unkind, Rain dripped from the roof onto the castle floor, Outside shinned only the lonely moonlight And nothing more. I was slumbering until awoken by an open door, An eerie pitch of creaking wooden castle floors, “Is that my Jade? Come back to sleep.” – I implored No answer nor a sound; just silence, And nothing more. Our castle was filled with dying lonely light, Flames throughout seemed too spit and sputter, Almost as if it was blown upon by a chilling wind, You could hear the flowing water in the gutters, It poured and poured until my clock struck four, This went on for hours, as if there was no end, Just somber sounds that I've come too abhor,, And nothing more. From the silence, something fluttered and guttered, My optimist thoughts began to wonder in contrite, For my mind was blurred and cluttered, As if my heart was filled with fright, Quickly I put my feet on my castle floor, My room only had slithers of light, From my creaking half-opened door, Darkness was around me heretofore, And nothing more. Slowly I staggered down the hallway toward a creaking utter, In confusion almost quantities of profusion, “An open window.” - I stuttered, “Who would let in the cold wind?” – Softly muttered Did she open the window shutter? Only me and my Jade live here as lovers, Who opened the window wherefore, Letting in an unpleasant daunting uproar, And nothing more. Out the window and on the ground I hear a sound, But all that's around our castle is darkness, Not even the the shoal which surrounds, Nothing but the moonlight shines upon the ground, Which shinned upon the face of my poor Jade, From the window she had had fallen down, With a ghastly image she now upholds, By the sight of her lifeless body I am abhorred, And nothing more."

    • one year ago
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