W. Colin Gibson
A Gothic Tale
Hark, tis a dark dark night.
And Evil’s abound to give us fright.
A stranger’s been seen , wearing a cowl.
He came from the woods, whence came the howl.
He is just one of the Dark Army found.
All ye unforgiven from he fire-e mound.
And out of the darkeness a evill did come
True pain and suffering it brought to us all.
Away were the children to hid in their beds
Fo fear that devl would hop off their heads.
Out of this darkness, a light doth shine,
On a young lad, the boy be mine.
The light of good hath shone to be true
To defeat Evil’s legions, his quest, he must persue.
“No! Not me lad, he only be eight….”
“Tis a young age indeed, but it be his fate.”
They suit the lad up, filled with dread.
With talk of beasts and monsters undead.
“Thy sword and armor weigh my lad down.”
As he leaves, the townsmen frown.
Bones be clinking as he walks,
Noises from the forest sounds like talk.
“What vile language doth thou speak?
Why am I chosen? I’m meek and week.”
He turns back, “No, I must go.”
The noises around startle him so.
Walking the forest, glancing branches sway,
Walking right through, he starts to pray.
Acoss the hills he see’st some baskets.
On approach they be empty caskets.
At such a fight, is blood is iced.
An go’est forth as if enticed.
“Is there no day? The moon is not fading.”
“Help,” he hears, a frightened maiden?
Down the hills and through a town
Unwrapped banadages be all around.
“What monsters dwellest here?”
He asks hself with mounting fear.
Through-out the town there be one light.
The first one he hath seen all night.
All creepy and silent like an old English moor,
With small steps and haste he opens the door.
A schreeching howl desecrates the soil,
Seeing a captured beauty make’th his blood boil.
“Begona y’all,” as he lift’th his sword with all his might
The mummies, skeletons, and witches laugh alike.
With the power of good, his sword shine’th bright.
Slashing them all, the maiden say’eth “Thou save’st me tyke.”
The lad asks, “Is his thee extense that the evil doth hold?”
“Nay, Venture south to a cave, thou are quite bold.
In the cave, the scolomance lays,
The school of the Devil, so they say.
Upon entrance be of good mind,
Leave all the Evil in your heart behind.
Let your heart be your guide and show the way
To the Devil’s chamber, whom you must slay.
Godspped and fortune I beseech on your side.
Your journey will be frought will danger, not a free
ride.
…. To be
continued
Back to Poets of Niagara
Biography of W. Colin Gibson
Source: The author
