The Tapestry

Grimly hung behind an oaken door

Boasting of rich, Elven lore

There once was an old Tapestry

Woven with histories

Of an unsung Century

 

Willful of its existing duty

This dandled silken scripting

Wore a dusty grimace

Swearing at each rasp

For its present calamity

 

Albeit its grumpy nature

Sitting right across the chamber

Our Tapisserie's Compadre

A vandalized, white-washed Mirror

Rejected for reflecting verity

 

Now our cavalier Mural

How it loved this artless Gaper

For the Mirror, it showed past valor

Precise heroism, like a silent replay

Reflection of the ancient Drapery

 

They had days that were hustling

For their prison was a queer, little treasury

Where strange beings came about, scuttling

Searching high and low for demanded curiosities

Oft' leaving the chamber with a clash so deafening

 

Then came a night of much darkness

To the nomadic Adornment's fright

Into the lonesome chamber did arrive

The most cherubic little blue-eyed tyke

Worming ‘round with mischief and spite

 

With a spasmodic grinding halt

All of Time forever froze

Our biloven Drapery no longer storms

For whence its swain Speculum once sat, aloof

Now lay scads of screaming silvery carcasses

 

Countless as an Elf’s immortal days

Enticing a madness into the silken Tracery

An unheard of frenzy, till Doomsday

So no creature ever again enquired

Of the concealed chamber’s oaken door

 

 

 

-Leah

Reviews

[Jasmine]

Your style is redolent of Tennyson, and I like it very much.
I must admit, as it's so wordy, I'm having trouble concentrating on it - but that's my fault, not yours.
I shall come back and read some more when my brain is not floating up into the cold sky.

You are an excellent poet, I'm finding. You've successfully resurrected a classic style of poem-writing, adding your own twists here and there.