The whispers were incessant through the night,
But when my eyes were open, they would cease,
'Twas then my faith and courage both took flight,
Afraid to close my eyes lest they increase.
They started when a neighbor's child fell ill,
A frail child, as pallid as the moon.
At first a scratching on the windowsill
But then the whispers started all too soon.
Since then, I've read beyond the midnight bell,
Retiring late, and praying I will sleep,
And hope my meditation will dispel
These voices that so often make me weep.
My casment's closed, the bolts are drawn within,
The heavy drapes blot out the starlit sky,
But as I close my eyes they will begin;
What do they want, just what do they imply?
Perhaps I should seek solace in the church,
And ask the priest, who's learned in these things,
I pray that I'm successful in my search,
To lay to rest, the torment each night brings.
The morning broke, a wet and windy day,
As if the elements would thwart my plan,
The mist and odour from wood loam decay,
Just made the day seems sad, and far more wan.
The old grey church loomed through the rising gloom,
It's tower like a silent sentinel,
It's then I saw her by a new hewn tomb,
Her face was pale, her gown was virginal.
My heart began to race, but I stood still,
She called my name, her words were like a sigh,
But something told me that she meant no ill,
That moment I'll remember till I die.
I ventured near, although my legs were weak
She pointed to the tomb, there was no name;
I wet my lips, and found the strength to speak,
Who did this thing, on whom must lie the blame?
Sir, I was born a girl and not a lad,
No pardon from my Pa I ever found
And everyday he raved like one who's mad,
He swore that I'd lay nameless in the ground.
I knew her name, her name was Isabelle,
And so I scratched it there upon the stone,
For every night herein, I knew so well
The silence of the night I now would own.
'
A contest entry
- A tribute to Edgar Allen Poe by Symphony.of.Silence.
1100 points, ended October 12, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
I
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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Great rhyme and flow to this and amazing imagination
Thank you so much for entering my contest and Good luck
-♥Amy♥ -
Interesting write, I enjoyed reading this so much and agree with suseann on creativeness and a guiding voice throughout this magnificent piece! Good luck in the contest and keep on penning dear poet!
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Poetic Justice Prevails
Clearly this captivating Poeish tale was inspired by the spirit of the master Poet,Poe himself. He must have been peering over this talented author's shoulder whispering his weave to a kindred soul. Beautifully creative in story line and in the darkness tinctured style of E.A.himself. This exquisite piece just had to be yours. Your imagination and talent shines here.
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beatifully macabre
what a haunting tale in the spirit of the master of dark poetry and disturbing shorts. I have not read any other entries from this contest, but I predict you're a shoe end for a prize. Best of luck.
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Brilliant
from start to finish it held me captivated. The rhyme and meter perfect and the story unfolding tempting the reader on I couldn't have anticipated the final lines a terrific read
good luck in the contest -
Oh this is beautiful!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I keep on reading it again and again! I love the sound of "new hewn tomb". I especially love" The mist and odour from wood loam decay". I love also of course the divine creepiness of the whispers starting and stopping and robbing the narrator of sleep, and the strange scratching on the windowsill. I adore your description of the church!
The development of the sadness and the forlorn character of the narrator is so beautifully chilling in its realism, and lends force and truth and reality to the strangeness of the experience. Bravo!!!!!!!!!!!
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Beautiful flow and rhythm. A fitting tale indeed for the contest.
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Your responses to and influences by the "old poets" is remarkable, my Friend. Great to see a new posting by you, Sweetie. Best of luck in the contest. 
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Creepy and brings a strong feeling of helplessness. Good work
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