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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 00:03:15 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 16609
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Ode to a Lost Soul
[time] => 2003-04-27 17:05:00
[hometext] => Another very early piece of mine, probably about four years old. This one is about the lost spirit of a girl who walks the earth in search of the perfect man.
[bodytext] => Wandering about, with the slowest stride,
The poor lost soul with poor lost pride Can’t ever smile, and can’t ever care, The mist is her legs, the clouds are her hair. Her face is a fog full of will o’ the wisps, Her eyes are the marsh gas, she’s never been kissed. Her nose is a quaint little firefly-light, The girl has no mouth, it is covered with white, The lacy mist-veil, like a good little girl’s, Shuts in her face from the rest of the world. Her scrawny white bodice, so lustful the urge, Caused many a sailor to sing us their dirge, And down, down below, in her silky white dress, Were the feet Cinderella had always wore best. Onto the girl’s arms, with no meat and no bone, But the one thing she took when evicted from home, She wielded a pike, at least six feet long, With a blade at the end that was pointy and strong. The girl was on earth with one goal alone, And that was to judge those who’d judged on their own. One prick from the pike, and the soul of a man Was shook from its prison, and out on the land. The pike the girl held was the key to the cage That kept in the spirits of evil and sage. So how did she get on this pitiful world? Why can she judge all the boys and the girls? Her sentence was given in 30 A.D., To walk the dead swamps and shores of the sea. Her crime, you may ask…? Well, that’s simple enough, She thought herself better than each one of us. Oh boy, did that girl ever prove herself wrong, When death came to visit, that day on her lawn, Before she was able to think or repent, She came out of earth and was suddenly sent Into the abyss where light can’t be seen, And when you cry out, no one can hear you scream. She came to the end of her infinite fall, And was sent back up here to intimidate all. So now she is stuck, just a-roaming the earth, Destroying the people with too much self-worth. Her curse can be broken, and broken again, But only by men who could take the pike’s pain. All those who had sinned could not touch the blade, Only pure men could survive what she’d made. So wherever a man gives a boast or a brag, She’s there in a flash, the hoary old hag, She looks through his skin, to see the man’s soul, And find out the truth in the tale he told. And if he is found to have told a fib, The pike is injected right though the man’s rib And out through his heart, and out through his back And then back around and out through his neck. If it turns out that the bold man is true, She turns, walks away, and changes into A mortal that walks up and asks for his time, A test devised to see who is kind, And if he succumbs and follows the hag, She just disappears like a magical rag, And she then checks again at this poor fellow’s soul To see if his heart is made of pure gold. Of course she never finds gold there, just lead, Her excitement is gone and she is sad instead. Since the man didn’t lie, he doesn’t get killed, And he’s left on this earth to follow his will. The girl goes on searching, forever about, Trapped in her hell, wandering about, Just waiting for someone to tell one more tale, She just goes on searching, but to no avail. Her goal is to find the world’s perfect man, But so far, it seems he is not in this land. He’s not in the sky, and not on the earth, If he ever exists, he’s corrupted by worth. He’s not in the ground and not in the sea. And just so you know, betwixt you and me, As curses do come, this one is most just, Pride’s even worse than wrath, greed or lust. That’s what she gets for being the worst, The poor fool deserves her narcissus curse. And so she is left to wander the world, To punish the fools all just like the girl. She doesn’t know this, but she’s the wrong approach, A man who is perfect, he never would boast, And that there’s the genius to this perfect plan To curse a sick girl to walk all the land… It will not be broken, the poor girl is stuck, She’ll never escape with her ugly soul’s luck. The person she’s looking for doesn’t exist, And just look at her… She’s never been kissed… [comments] => 3 [counter] => 144 [topic] => 40 [informant] => Butterat_Zool [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => fantasy )
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