Mary!

The elderly man was lonely since his wife had died

he would not accept help had his pride.

Not an easy life and a soldier in the last world war

but nobody seemed to care any more.

What he did for his king and country just history

his life was in the past to most a mystery!

 

Finding it difficult without Mary to face each day

his depression would not go away.

Two grown up children they never came to call

not since Mary had died after the fall.

Living in the same house for nearly fifty-two years

they were so happy now shed only tears.

 

He lost the will to live so Ben fell into endless sleep

no longer for that burden to keep.

Twelve months later neighbours reported a smell

lingering where from they could not tell.

There were a  few relatives that could be found

when he was buried in the ground!

 

But Ben was now by his wife’s side once again.

 

At least she loved him and cared!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

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Published in: on 26/08/2013 at 03:09  Leave a Comment  
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The Sea Fog!

The fog over the sea was unusually dense

to the locals in the small village

that lay on the coast it was ominous

this was no natural sea fog

stories handed down told of a terrible past

of a curse on the people cast!

 

That every twenty-five years came the fog

dense and glowing it would come

when the villagers went in they vanished

as something within took them away

once more a reality not a story being told

there came a breeze so cold!

 

Two hundred families lived in the community

fishermen and their families

the same number for five hundred centuries

they were the trapped ancestors

silently villagers culled in the glowing fog

no sound not even a barking dog!

 

The legend was of the long dead coming back

in the red glowing sea fog

because of what the village ancestors had done

wrecking a ship on the rocks

to plunder and kill those still alive on board

through greed take away the hoard!

 

The few who survived swore they would return

every century to get their revenge

for all the innocent souls taken that evil night

the village was forever cursed

this was the anniversary the fifteenth of December

when this generation would remember!

 

The priest of the little church upon the steep hill

a descendant of the wreckers leader

who was the one that had researched the truth

knowing that under the wooden floor

still lay most of the stolen sailing ships haul

they would return until they had it all!

 

In the fog the long dead walked once more

anybody they met would die

but if you stayed in and ignored the knock

for them they would be well

those who opened the door would perish

no more life to cherish!

 

Alone in the old church the fog for him came

he knew what it wanted

grotesque figures trying to get in his domain

the house of his god

there the priest prepared for his passage to hell

defiantly he rang the brass bell!

 

The sea fog entered as a sword cut him down

at the time the ship hit the rocks

then slowly receded back out to the deep-sea

the bell silent the priest had been taken

for now satisfied their curse was partly fulfilled

treasure not retrieved but the priest killed!

 

The village mourned those who had gone

life there once more carried on!

 

The wife of the priest gave birth to a son!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

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