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The Old Forsaken Wood
- The Old Forsaken Wood -
In the forests of the northlands, where oaken groves grow wild,
There was a place in one such wood, a place as yet undefiled.
Amidst the ancient stones hewn mightily of old, of carven rock…
By the men now lying all in barrows cold, whom every age forgot:
There was a place of gatherings, where dark faeries oft did play.
A tomb was there, of another era past; it ne’er saw light or day!
A man once came upon the gray site, wandering far from home,
Following the mad guidance of some lost and antiquated tome.
He lingered long at the gathering place, but nary a spirit came,
Soon the night’s cold air did necessitate the making of a flame.
And at the fire by his plain tent, the man looked about in fear…
For midnight’s hour was falling fast, and something drew near.
A shape was moving, black against darkness and velvet mists,
Until at last he heard a weird sound, like when a serpent hissed.
It did cease, and in its’ place a woman’s voice thereafter cried:
Come away with me, ye lonely man, sadness cannot be denied!
I have neither loved ones nor family, ‘tis true, but what be ye?
The man pursued his sad inquiry, but kept by light so watchfully.
Am I daft, he wondered, for no answer issued forth to so hear!
Until she so cried, again: lonely man, come to me, draw ye near.
He kept to his fire, looking at the shadowy form fast coming to,
Coming yet closer, ever closer: still indistinct of a definitive hue.
I am that in which all sorrow and solitude end, for I am bliss…
Come unto me, dear lonely man, and feel the tingle of my kiss.
Why do I not see thee, thou seem black and faded as all about!
The man felt a chill beyond that in the air, as he thusly did shout.
Leave the glow of the firelight, and my form ye shall swiftly see,
Leave ye the warmth of the flame, and join ye in my company.
Near the mouth of the tomb, I wait for thee, to by me so stand…
Near the yawning mouth of the tomb, that lies so close at hand.
Lo, there the fair folk sing, and dance to their ease in a revelry!
Know ye where the ravens take wing, and sprites flit peacefully.
The man followed the wraith unto the tomb, so darkly wrapped,
In greater obscurity than before: here, wherein the dead so slept.
Other shapes were with him now, men and women it did seem…
More clear than their surroundings, aglow with an ethereal gleam.
Will o’ the wisps as well abounded, and then he turned to look…
To behold his guide unto this wonder, whose advice he just took.
The boy with a woman’s voice was pale of skin and red of eye…
But lovely, oh so lovely, as the man drew on closer, only to die.
The next morning, villagers found him, drained of all his blood…
Ne’er again did a man alone set foot in that old forsaken wood!
In the forests of the northlands, where oaken groves grow wild,
There was a place in one such wood, a place as yet undefiled.
Amidst the ancient stones hewn mightily of old, of carven rock…
By the men now lying all in barrows cold, whom every age forgot:
There was a place of gatherings, where dark faeries oft did play.
A tomb was there, of another era past; it ne’er saw light or day!
A man once came upon the gray site, wandering far from home,
Following the mad guidance of some lost and antiquated tome.
He lingered long at the gathering place, but nary a spirit came,
Soon the night’s cold air did necessitate the making of a flame.
And at the fire by his plain tent, the man looked about in fear…
For midnight’s hour was falling fast, and something drew near.
A shape was moving, black against darkness and velvet mists,
Until at last he heard a weird sound, like when a serpent hissed.
It did cease, and in its’ place a woman’s voice thereafter cried:
Come away with me, ye lonely man, sadness cannot be denied!
I have neither loved ones nor family, ‘tis true, but what be ye?
The man pursued his sad inquiry, but kept by light so watchfully.
Am I daft, he wondered, for no answer issued forth to so hear!
Until she so cried, again: lonely man, come to me, draw ye near.
He kept to his fire, looking at the shadowy form fast coming to,
Coming yet closer, ever closer: still indistinct of a definitive hue.
I am that in which all sorrow and solitude end, for I am bliss…
Come unto me, dear lonely man, and feel the tingle of my kiss.
Why do I not see thee, thou seem black and faded as all about!
The man felt a chill beyond that in the air, as he thusly did shout.
Leave the glow of the firelight, and my form ye shall swiftly see,
Leave ye the warmth of the flame, and join ye in my company.
Near the mouth of the tomb, I wait for thee, to by me so stand…
Near the yawning mouth of the tomb, that lies so close at hand.
Lo, there the fair folk sing, and dance to their ease in a revelry!
Know ye where the ravens take wing, and sprites flit peacefully.
The man followed the wraith unto the tomb, so darkly wrapped,
In greater obscurity than before: here, wherein the dead so slept.
Other shapes were with him now, men and women it did seem…
More clear than their surroundings, aglow with an ethereal gleam.
Will o’ the wisps as well abounded, and then he turned to look…
To behold his guide unto this wonder, whose advice he just took.
The boy with a woman’s voice was pale of skin and red of eye…
But lovely, oh so lovely, as the man drew on closer, only to die.
The next morning, villagers found him, drained of all his blood…
Ne’er again did a man alone set foot in that old forsaken wood!
Published 24th Mar 2013
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Anonymous
- Edited 15th May 2018 3:45pm
24th Mar 2013 1:19am
<< post removed >>
25th Mar 2013 00:08am
Thanks, Angel! It's one of my older Gothic Horror poems that I never released online before, so you're reading this for the first time anywhwere. Super happy you liked it, my dear friend! :D
24th Mar 2013 9:08am
25th Mar 2013 00:09am
Yeah, the poor fellow in the tale did not fare so well against that boy vampire in the end. *Giggle* But such stories rarely have happy endings! I'm happy you enjoyed my poem, Grace. It's not one of my newer works, by far, but it is one of my better works for certain. :)
25th Mar 2013 8:57pm
26th Mar 2013 5:41am
You know, my dear friend, I actually did write a short story VERY much like unto this one... a great expansion of all the themes and ideas presented in this poetic tale. Take a look at "The Inner Demons of Morgan Cromwell" at the following link:
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/39905-the-inner-demons-of-morgan-cromwell/
Also, another similar tale I penned like this is "The Death Knight's Crusade" which you can read at this link:
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/39184-the-death-knight-s-crusade/
I am certain you will find both tales enchanting and fascinating reads! :D
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/39905-the-inner-demons-of-morgan-cromwell/
Also, another similar tale I penned like this is "The Death Knight's Crusade" which you can read at this link:
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/39184-the-death-knight-s-crusade/
I am certain you will find both tales enchanting and fascinating reads! :D
Anonymous
- Edited 13th Dec 2020 10:35am
24th Mar 2013 10:11pm
<< post removed >>
25th Mar 2013 00:12am
I am glad you liked it, Ravanesca! Yeah I wrote this with a very medieval-style romantic type of atmosphere to it, which plays out with quite the nice contrast to the grim ending that takes the reader by surprise.
12th Apr 2013 12:03pm
If I don't love this poem I should die. It has that adorable old quality of poetry that I so miss these days. And I love it so much when I story comes out through poetry. It is impeccable.
Jessica you have done great. I am a fan.
Jessica you have done great. I am a fan.
I am delighted that you enjoyed this poem so much, Demogorgon! And indeed, I penned it in a very old style, since I too am a great admirer of such styles and as you noted you don't see a lot of poetry written this way so much these days. Yeah, all my poems (or at least most of them) are big on story as well as style... so I am happy you like that about them. Many thanks for taking the time to read as well as to post such a glowing comment! I very much appreciate it. :D