Metzengerstein

A little bit of Gothic...

I think that I was only nine

When first I met Metzengerstein,

Too young to know his foul intent,

Too young, too pure, too innocent.

 

He lived in some old ruined church

With gothic columns, vaulted arch,

That sheltered him from thundered skies,

And hid, in gloom, his enterprise.

 

For from that church were mutterings

On windy nights, such utterings

As screams, while weird unholy moans

Disturbed the graveyard's scattered bones.

 

He wore a cape that wrapped him in

A hat, broad-brimmed, and black as sin,

His gaiters to the knee were brown

The boots he wore, they made no sound.

 

At night I'd see his shadow pass

Dark stained, upon my window glass

As stealthily he roamed abroad

While mist and fog obscured the road.

 

He came from some small German town,

My kindly father asked him round:

'We must be kind, and make no fuss,

But treat him just as one of us.'

 

Metzengerstein then came to call

And sat and stared - stared at us all,

My mother brought us cake and tea

And laughed, and smiled most happily.

 

She was so sweet, so fair of face

My father said: 'She lends us grace.'

She was much younger, then, than he,

He'd brought her from the old country.

 

But while she played the welcome host

Metzengerstein watched her the most,

His eyes burned fierce beneath thick brows

As once he'd spied on German fraus.

 

He came again, again and he

Ignored my father, ignored me,

But watched my mother's every move;

She danced, to see if he'd approve.

 

My father sat bemused and still,

And worried too, for I could tell;

His wife would seem to be bewitched,

Metzengerstein had scratched her itch.

 

So soon that sweet and dainty dame

Had added rumour to her name,

She raised her skirts above the knee,

Wore tops as low as low could be.

 

While in our parlour, came the sounds

Of dancing music, all year round,

Metzengerstein sat in his chair

While she would dance, and taunt, and stare…

 

Right back at him, full in the eyes

As if he had her hypnotized;

'I wish I'd never asked him here,'

My father muttered, in despair.

 

Then one day when I was but ten

My mother, with Metzengerstein

Went out, and said: 'We're going to search,

The bowels of that ruined church.'

 

He'd told her there was music there

Would charm the roots of her fair hair,

Would spin her giddy in the dark

Would faery-like, ignite her spark.

 

I waited 'til my father came

And told him I was not to blame:

'But mother's gone, some stairs to climb,

She's gone with that Metzengerstein!'

 

We waited, and we waited on,

But of the two there was no sign,

At length we sought the church in pain

But all was echoes in the rain.

 

For days and weeks, and then for years

I watched my father burst in tears

Whenever tunes, they did remind him

Of his wife… Metzengerstein!

 

And lonely then became his life,

He mourned his only love, his wife,

But she had disappeared, as if

Her dainty frame did not exist.

 

This year, as autumn winds were due

I found that I was fifty-two,

When down the road I saw a sign -

My mother, and Metzengerstein!.

 

She danced on in, and said: 'We're back!

We found no music in the rack.'

I looked and stared like one deranged -

For neither of the two had aged!

 

My father, crippled in his chair

Cried out: 'Oh God! Is that my dear?'

And she shrank back to see him now,

This pale old man, his feeble brow.

 

'I have been but an hour or so;

What's wrong? Where did my husband go?'

I looked at her through childhood tears:

'You have been gone for forty years!'

 

She swooned, fell swiftly to the floor

As I peered out the open door,

But of that cape there was no sign,

He'd gone for good - Metzengerstein!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[roarke]

In reading your pieces, I've always thought that they should be read aloud, whether at a reading forum, the corner tavern or the bustling street corner. When I read finely constructed pieces like this, the inflections, the accents and the flavors become auditory, express themselves in real voice. Now, if only the passersby took head to the lessons to be learned here.

[Lena M. P.]

Bewitching. If you dance with the devil... Greatly imaginative and very good flow from one stanza to the next.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I'll make my way through all of your poems yet! The title of this one caught my eye immediately upon seeing it - Edgar Allen Poe. You have given new life to the name Metzengerstein. While a different tale altogether, you retain many of the same elements of gothic writing. For some reason, your poem also makes me thing of Persephone.

Great job!

Linda Marie

[lilain]

What a story! I wonder about this Metzengerstein and where he took her. I get the feel of a Grimm's fairytale here... don't run off with strange men, you say.

Again, a wonderful job. Thank you so much for sending this my way.

[Chad Wesley Allbrett]

Creepy mate, really good.
Where did you get the name "Metzengerstein"?

[James Takeo Panton]

This is your usual excellence....it was a great read, and an intersting story, very poetic...you had me right up to the last line!

[An Ordinary Woman]

Excellent writing. A great story line captured flawlessly in verse and rhyme, something I know I can't do. lol You brought it together with perfection, a delight to read. Thanks for sending it to me. :+)

[Collette]

Haha what a delightful read. I don't know where your mind finds these ideas, but I love them! This piece was fun, light, and humerous! The gentle rhyming was not forced, and it moved along nicely. The plot, in its simplicity, kept me interested. Nice little twist at the end as well. brava, my friend. You never cease to amuse and amaze with your lyrical tales. Keep writing!

[Norma J. Jessee]

A spectacular story poem that combines just the right amount of fantasy and magic with reality to make this a superbly crafted work of art.
A fresh, engrossingly sassy saga of subterfuge with a whiplash ending.
I loved it.

[EvesDaughter]

Breathtaking. I find only joy in
reading your work - I am truly
in awe of your storytelling talent,
the ease in which your rhyme
flows. This is one of the best
pieces I've read here at WC - I
am definitely going to study your
work...