Sunday, October 20, 2019

Terror by the Gaslight Post

By T.L. Coston

Oh, I do know the grasping fingers of fright
When venturing into darkness
Alone without friend and scarcity of light
For the imagination can overwhelm a weakened heart
In my advanced age, that night I almost departed

In the old harbor when the first cold air bites
A fog rolled in and the buoy bell chimed
I clasped my coat to silence the chill
And listened to my footfalls on the cobblestone road
And listened - and listened for footfalls on the cobblestone road 

Opaque was the night on this sojourn
Where even shadows hid from their dark overlord
And every sense tingled with vexation
Indeed, every sound amplified and threatened
Every sound a menace

In the distance about a block away
A gaslight flickered - waxed and waned
I was attracted to this old post as a moth to a flame
For this glow welcomed a wary traveler
Ahh, it assuaged a desperate, wary traveler

It was then I picked up the pace
And began to chuckle at my dismay
For a man of my advanced age
To be scared of spooks and ghouls?
Indeed, to be scared of spooks and ghouls

It was then He stepped out from the dark 
Cloaked in a top hat and inverness cape
The gaslight did not reveal his face
There we stood staring at each other for sometime
Nay, we stared at each other for a long-long time

Terror - if it can be named - suspended time and space
This specter’s eyes burned with immense hate
Oh, how my body ached to escape back into the dark  
To run - to run with all my strength
To fly - to fly away from this fiend

It was then the fog crept in
Then darkness joined them
These two coquettes embraced this fiend
This menace with hateful eyes
Who preyed upon a frightened mind

As the three danced around the gaslight post
I ducked and ran with my head bowed low
Their laughter shrill and hollow cut to the bone 
Echoed down the cobblestone road
Mocking an old man, who ran and ran, down the cobblestone road

Saturday, October 5, 2019

An Autumnal Requiem

by T.L. Coston

As I look down upon the valley in the misty morn
God’s censer dissipates as the sunshine shorns
From His cathedral, a bucolic majesty is borne
An autumnal requiem whispers a melancholic song

Spangled hues of florid splendor reveal His masterpiece
Solemn beauty attest to our Lord’s majestical feat
Leaves of deciduous trees rain down around me
I close my eyes in this rustic fragrance and breathe

From these heights the trees are half barren and cold
Apples have turned brown, shriveled and mold
Soon the valley will succumb to Death’s enfold
Another autumnal requiem will dissipate - nevermore