| Muses Review Mark Stellinga's Poetry |
| Sample 4: The Reaper Denied by Mark Stellinga Source: Phonetical Imagery (2004), #42 Oh stone of death, I beg thee, relinquish me thy guest. Release but to this specter, the soul beneath thy breast what waits but to be wakened, and taken now, to rest. Mine is thine within thee, unlock to me thy door. Expel that one inside thyself, cast out what thou wouldst store. Such things must be, I caution thee, again stone, I implore. Discover to thy patron, that which lies below this place. That which, now abandoned, finds no refuge 'neath thy base, Witness, only, to the ruin, writ neatly on thy face. This spirit, now in-walled in wood, as well doth thou beseech, "Unchain me stone, for yet there is my destiny to reach. I beg thee, hole, discretely me expose thy hing-ed breech." Thy countenance retained, my word. Would be a simple task. Thy stench and powdered bones remain, thy soul is all I ask. Expel to me thy dormant wind. Oh yield thy mitered mask. My word, sir rock, 'twould fare thee well do bid this sacrifice, Lest, dealt with not, a vengeance, from this specter ye entice, Doth rend thy kingdom vacant now, indeed, a greater price! Now give, I say, what dwelleth here, thou leaveth little time. My requisition echoes as the bells about us chime. Thus now beseeched, shouldst thou deny, twould be thy final crime. Pity thee this ag-ed begger. Why doth thou resist me, block? State thy terms, but trifle not, hear, again, the tower clock. Wilst thou now surrender to me that which I am begging, rock? Silence....? Viper......! Wouldst thou have me think thee dumb? Think thee all mine threats be empty? Answer stone, thy time hath come. Best thou not invoke the fury of the one thou keepeth from! Once again this specter beckons. Once again the still is broken. Pass thine offering. But a pittance, bid thee now at last thy token. If thou wouldst refuse, deny me, shouldst that note once more be spoken, All here wouldst be cast asunder! Yeah, thine all, so cast asunder! Witness to mine wrath plutonic, no more wouldst thou wait, or wonder, Thou wouldst THEN, release unto me, that which here resideth under. Now again, I do beseech thee, dally not unto the dawn. Shouldst the morn throw shadows new and dew thy marble garden's lawn, Shouldst then I be one soul richer. Shouldst then I be wisely gone! Silence still? Now think thee, stone, for what thou now doth wait. None here 'bout wouldst be thine ally, none wouldst know thy fate. Give but what of thine, is not. Throw open me thy gate. All thine like thee think thee foolish. All thine 'round thee, neatly tribed, Gave what thou hast not the "Reaper". Gave, though ne'er so amply bribed, Souls of those whom slept beneath the names upon their face inscribed. Release to me thy spirit tenant, thus his worship couldst begin. Make thee haste, again I caution, lest my scythe reproach thy sin. This one last request, once granted, brings me ne'er to thee again. Now be known to thee, oh viper, lest this be thine hour of doom, T'would such great misfortune meet thee, 'fore this dawn wouldst be to bloom, Save thou shouldst bespeak thy wisdom, save thou gainst to me thy room. Wouldst thou know my wrath, fool guardian, for what here too long hath stayed? Fiend to keep one withered hostage, dupe to save the waste here laid. Know then this, MINE arc-ed ally, feel the cold, relentless blade. Feel, again, my scythe within thee. Know of what I warned, and why. Feel the severed soul escape thee. Hear with me the bells that cry. Taste the tip I feed thy belly. See the pale and frigid sky. Suffer thee the swift incisions left within thy splintered chest. Reap the consequence thou tempted. Loose, at last, to me thy guest! Now, fool stone, thou hath surrendered, that the Reaper doth request. As again the bell doth beckon, so the morn is thus begun. As the dawn the truth exposes, lights the wounds of battle done, I have come, and I have taken. I have gone, and I have won! |
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