This Ruined Castle
7:48 PM |
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This ruined castle,
What dusty ruffle,
Clouds stone cobble,
Earths made rumble,
Colorless home once humble,
Towering blood glory topple,
Rusted tremble, concrete garble.
Void-made treble.
Garden hill by the river,
Epitaph of the black shiver,
Echoes downward forever,
Cenotaph of gold and silver,
Caged by evil’s quiver,
Epigraphed snake’s slither,
Clockwork’s wordless sliver,
Blink, house was never.
This broken fortress,
Memories of dawn repress,
Reality made undress,
One prisoner’s distress,
He is the prince heartless,
Pain and regret compress,
As his world wandered soulless,
Heard through walls, soundless.
Life, long prayed,
Freedom, forever dismayed,
Hope, endlessly stayed,
Love, remained unswayed,
One soul stayed,
Others have strayed,
For his ego preyed,
His soul betrayed.
Alone in the darkness,
Lonely in the bitterness,
Angered in the thoughtlessness,
Fortuned in the madness,
Crafted in the sadness,
Raised in the brittleness,
Beauty in the sharpness,
Impaled in the farness.
This joyless keep,
Even in dreamful sleep,
Escape from hellfire deep,
“Impossible!”, said the Creep,
The captor in the hold steep,
Afar from the infinite weep,
Behold, a bright light sweep,
March unto the joyless keep.
The light, a princess,
A maiden of justice witness,
A wonder among skies starless,
A beauty in the darkness,
A darkness of hers, harmless,
A fascination of gentle marquess,
A truth in the badness,
A mystery seen starkness.
Arriving in the entrance,
No welcome of focus hindrance,
Nor machinations of evil’s temperance,
Caught her by trance,
Silence, no attendance,
In her lowly admittance,
Notices afflictions of penance,
As questions begin to dance.
“Where is the master,
Of this human-made disaster?”
Pointing out to a messy caster,
Next to the spilled memory cannister,
And images of the hereafter,
Rotting faster and faster.
“I am no master,
I am but a human platter”.
Wounded and bloodied,
Tired by lack of deed,
The prince in need,
Reach for the lady in lead,
But hands kneed,
Eyes bluely bleed,
Underneath the words unstudied,
Something forgotten grows, a seed.
“Dear friend, it has been so long”,
The princess’s words, strong,
“Indeed, my world needs a song”,
The prince’s sayings, her heart belong,
“Then please, this pain need not prolong”,
The woman pleas, the man went along,
“This is where I belong”,
They contest, something is wrong.
The seed that grew,
The plant that was made new,
The tree that knew,
The leaves that flew,
As the roots once review,
Their worlds’ different view,
With love they drew
Together, they thought they knew.
Together, they thought they knew.
This gray fort,
This dead resort,
This unjust court,
Was a shadows exhort,
Was once a loud port,
Where laughter and joy, import,
Where lights, dreams transport,
Where sunlight’s rays comport.
Their worlds were one,
Their lives were far from done,
Misery was none,
Peace came undone,
However, there was one,
People should not have done,
His words were none,
His mind came undone.
The Creep offered hollow,
The prince then follow,
His heart made shallow,
By the truth to swallow,
Nightfall makes wallow,
The Creep played hallow,
Stranger’s face a sallow,
Joy buried by the mallow.
Seasons pass,
Healthy soul, broken glass,
Rusting brass,
Sorrow for the single mass,
Slithers in the grass,
Night and sun surpass,
Escape improbable, alas,
Wanting again to amass.
This empty chamber,
Behold, flashes remember,
In halls glazed with ember,
By shadows outnumber,
Invitation blanked by member,
As snowflakes of December,
The prince can no longer remember,
Retreating to the Creep’s November.
The only light in the hall,
Pleads to answer the call,
To escape the endless fall,
Asking for freedom, recall,
Through the exit will crawl,
With her, with comfort of a shawl,
His eyes are small,
As the Creep grows tall.
As the Creep grows tall.
This ruined castle,
What dusty ruffle,
Clouds stone cobble,
Earths made rumble,
Colorless home once humble,
Towering blood glory topple,
Rusted tremble, concrete garble.
Void-made treble.
As the sun skies break,
Wishing for love’s warm wake,
Amid one’s mistake,
His life to take,
Was hers to make,
The cold winds forsake,
The Creep forces ache,
At the prince’s chances, not retake.
At the prince’s chances, not retake.
by
Reuben Pio Martinez
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