Immortal

A Poem by The Hampstead Poet

Decked in silks, bright and rejoicing,

The dark hall echoes with the ghost of a feast,

Carefree laughter, chatter, and dancing

The tatters of a past from which I am not released

My dress, adorned with luxurious velvet and gauze

Stitches down the side done with the carefullest of hands

Is torn and is frayed, dust rimming the hem like gray under eyes

It is weary from this life and yearns for dances and new lands

The hall no longer fills with the cacophony of sounds

It moans at a single footstep and shudders with each storm

Some night, the wind seems to howl my name

As if mourning for my fate and my tortured old form

Tears have long passed, the weeping replaced with silence

The days of friendship and warmth from rusted bonds break

And my companions, my friends, all my sisters and brothers

Slipped away in the night and I still cannot wake

I dream long of rest, flight from this desolate place

The air here is plagued with the breath of the dead

Yet here still I sit, on a throne I don't deserve

In a palace of echoes I still wish I had fled

If you hear of the haunting of the castle on the hill

Of a lady in white who shrieks and weeps of her fate

Of a lady who cannot find rest among the living

She is no ghost, for her death has no date

She is just a woman, now a wraith of skin and bone

Who weeps and reminisces of the time that was her own

© 2014 The Hampstead Poet

Author's Note

I would really appreciate any comment that you have. Thanks!

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Reviews

Rick Puetter

Dear The Hampstead Poet,

Once again an interesting piece. Yes, immortality has its disadvantages at least if you outlive all your family and friends. Having no end in sight can be a torment of the highest degree. Well fortunately, this is not our problem, we mortal creatures.

A fine musing.

Very best regards,

Rick