Jul 23, 2020
Phantom’s Dance
A contribution to the Never Ending Poem
There is no discretion, taking old and young alike,
Those strong hear her rattle, awaiting for her strike.
Those weak feel possession, phantom writhing in her gloom,
waiting for her vengeance, timely bringing on her doom
she cares no more, she wages war
That Harbinger of Death. That Phantom Queen.
her might on show, she smites all foe
Death to her remains unseen
Souls depart — it is her Art!
Empaths feel her touches, fingers of unforgiving wrath.
Overpowering all sense of being, standing strong against her path.
she does not come for them this day, but all that they may love
To take them from this earthly place, she leads them all away.
she cares no more, she wages war
That Harbinger of Death. That Phantom Queen.
her might on show, she smites all foe
Death to her remains unseen
Souls depart — it is her Art!
Overriding earthly feelings, holding back, she ties their hands.
She sometimes has a weakness, but it’s not figured in her plans.
Strange tides she washes over them, hopelessness resides.
Darkness consuming scenes, she’s egging on the fight.
she cares no more, she wages war
That Harbinger of Death. That Phantom Queen.
her might on show, she smites all foe
Death to her remains unseen
Souls depart — it is her Art!
They do not know their outcome, till the battles all but lost
Their fate betwixt our hands, but at what earthly cost.
We fight the battles plight, resist each others will,
till those we love are all but gone, this time we pay the bill.
she cares no more, she wages war
That Harbinger of Death. That Phantom Queen.
her might on show, she smites all foe
Death to her remains unseen
Souls depart — it is her Art!
She has a hall of residence, a room with one way doors.
she welcomes all that beacon there, their toils she will endure.
She promises redemption, but their plight remains unknown.
Halls already filled with souls, still she beacons more and more.
she cares no more, she wages war
That Harbinger of Death. That Phantom Queen.
her might on show, she smites all foe
Death to her remains unseen
Souls depart — it is her Art!
there is a final corridor, where one might see the light,
and dance with the phantom’s shadow, help seal their final plight.
some say she lives betwixt heaven and hell, or other unworldly realms
some say she reincarnates, returning souls to live again.
My contribution to the challenge by Radha Kapadia to continue the never ending poem (originally created by Martin Rushton), on the subject of death.
Rhoda is an original struggling houseless artist, crafter and writer. She creates original jewellery and hand made gifts from repurposed materials. She creates t-shirt and apparel designs at redbubble. She writes personal essays reflecting on life, poetry and short fiction. And willingly accepts all donations of coff.ee.
