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Array
(
[sid] => 7350
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => The Castle Of Anathia
[time] => 2002-11-24 05:20:00
[hometext] => A bit different for me, I hope you enjoy this poem.
[bodytext] => “The Castle Of Anathia” - by J. Samuelson Copyright©2001 07/17
In a land of darkened time Of deserts and withered weed In the shadows of a fallen star Lies The Castle Of Anathia. Cold and crumbled stone Silhouetted against high hills Resting on a mountain ledge Portraying it’s eerie outline. Riding the winding pathway Upwards, and towards the gate Strode a man, a brave soul, alone Intent on casting out this witch. The gate, long rusted, and broken Intertwined with razor-sharp thorns A single light, shown from the tower This witch, was watching below. Preparing for this frail intruder The evil, her spells could achieve The mixture of blood and of cyanide The measure for lifelong sleep. The door of hardwood was creaking As he dared to peer inside The cobwebs, and broken mirrors And spiraling stairs to the sky. The odor of death was relentless Black candles on concrete walls The flickering gave off a shadow Of movement around breath so cold. Silently, reaching the top step And looking behind him to see The feeling of her eyes upon him As he stumbled, and fell to her feet. Her glare, as cold as her gray skin She touched him, as he tried to rise She sensed his fear, and intention And lightning cracked through the sky. Amidst the time that was frozen She lifted, and held out her hand He had no choice but to take it She had him, he just closed his eyes. Up to the tower of madness she led And into the damp musty cell The chamber of devastation and death She readied for fatal inception. Commencing the chants to the spirit Demanding a death to the night A sacrifice of her sick concoction Damning the stars, she would reign. The power of blood rests before her The feeding, off fear in his eyes Controlling, and pouring the poison Onto his chest as he cried. She raised her arms, unto darkness And shouted in tongues, with a grin This witch had long had this coming As the long blade slid through her heart. Her blood and her rage were still spilling As he shoved it upward and in The screams of deaths grip releasing The ending of a notorious witch. The Castle Of Anathia is still standing And darkness prevails from within This man, born of the powerful might Would never be heard from again. The gloomy old relic of misery It’s stench, left filling the night It’s never quite out of the vision But never too torment again. To this day, the wonder is spreading And all fear, ‘till proof of the end The children gone, are still missing This father, for all, had revenge. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 199 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Joker17 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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