The Great Evanescence - a poetic story

Alright, I should be doing a post on the awards I got now – especially the ‘versatile Blogger’ one came with rules I haven’t followed yet – but I just finished this and simply can’t wait to hear other people’s thoughts on it... So, sorry, Taylor... What the heck, maybe there will just be two posts today.

When I started writing this, I was determined to write a story, but since I’m still switched on to poetry (that happens from time to time, the two alternate), I ended somewhere in between a story and a poem, which I suppose has a charm of its own. I think if I let this one simmer for a few years and rework it, it could be great. For now it just happened. Please let me know what you think in the comment section.

Cheers!

The Great Evanescence, a poetic story

Though I am old and from long bearing torn from mould,

it feels as though it were just yesterday

when a child I met young Mason Gray.

I was a boy, no more, and full of fright

until one day I lost my way

on a whimsical starry night.

I wandered through a moonlit street

for hours on end

until by chance I got to meet

a boy who’d be henceforth my friend.

There was no house in sight, no hunk of car

and I could see clearly a shimmer from afar

and ran towards it intoxicated

to where the strangest creature waited.

Beneath a lantern stood in ghostly light, all set aglow,

a boy whose face served but to show

the world had not yet killed its verve

and angels would still walk the earth.

I stumbled forward quite in awe

the creature stretched its well-shaped claw

and though his burning gaze revealed a fire mean,

smiled the sweetest smile I’d ever seen.

I like a moth drew ever nearer

for nothing to me ever dearer

then in that sacred flame to smoulder

and so my eyes turned even bolder.

His cheeks the softest crimson blush,

his lashes lush

his skin the purest peach and cream

his eyes as bright as in a dream

tainted by fever great

I met this fairy child of late

tolling a heart-shaped jojo in ennui

at an hour only demons roam free.

When the world was rather dim

this mystic child of light beckoned to come with him

and so I did and together we would knit

the wildest lore forevermore.

Games new and old we’d play

and from the village led astray

we roamed from meadow, bush to wood

where we would act out Robin Hood.

There we would, with sticks and rods,

take for models only gods,

split the forest and feign

to spear even the heavens in our reign.

Until morning bared its teeth

and bit away with pain and grief

at what was our youth

with roses underneath.

All at once the thorns sprung up and marred our face,

robbed us of our innocent grace

and our wondrous camp of clay

faced the stream, was washed away.

Like all things young and fair

my childhood friend dissolved, went up in night air

and left me forlorn in life’s grime

to swallow those sour grapes of time.

And now in death’s shade I stay,

worn from long decay

and as remedy to all that’s gone amiss

have nothing but to reminisce.