Hall Of Obscurity

Across the hall i did stand and stare,
at the thing i could have sworn was there,
my feet seemed glued to the freezing floor,
i could not turn to face the door,
the darkness of the hall was strong,
though i knew i was not wrong,
i saw eyes, my eyes did see,
i saw them staring back at me,
the lords and ladies on the walls did grin,
grin in this hallway full of sin,
and all the tales were passed down,
all the perverse tales of each grinning clown,
the hanging women on the walls were fair,
portrayed to seem without a care,
though in the tales, many did cry, die,
the killers did so, no wonder why,
long line of madness down the family line,
madness that had to be partly mine,
though why in this pitch black hall,
could i see the pictures, see every detail about them all?
still i stared ahead of me at the darkened hall,
the eyes moved back, the outline small,
i was now certain of what i had seen,
i saw a poor woman who had been,
she must have been killed by-
and then i did see,
the men on the walls stared back at me,
then i realised why i could see them so clear,
they were not portraytes of people once here,
they were ghosts of people once here,
they came from the walls, their ghostly glow,
surrounded me very slow,
screams, laughter, not a smile did go,
hands on me, their descendant, maybe it was fair,
kill the spawn of hate and despair,
but who was the person i could have sworn was there?

by leinad yancm

Comments (1)

Lisa Zaran conducts her prosody with seductive elation, carefully weaving her words with an original voice. She is a representative for a new generation of talented poets, all of whom possess the gift of creating ardent beauty.