Phantasmagoria (Chapters 1-6)

by Stephen Mabe

I've been working on this series of poems for a good while now. I have many ideas for it and many chapters still to come. I'm really just wanting some feedback to see what to do with it. Should I let it be or should I keep going? I've included what is completed, Chapters 1-6, which I know doesn't really explain much or tie anything together, but eventually will. I've also included the begining of chapter 20 which is going to be the end. I hope for it to turn into a novel. So somebody please just let me know how it is and what I should do with it. Thank you very much and enjoy. Oh yeah, bear with me on the first two chapters, they do get better I promise.

Chapter I:

Phantom of the Dream

Lilies fluttering in the wind

Giants of the wood vivid in trend

The sun shinning brightly throughout midday

A masterpiece the sky is in its colorful array

Loved ones laughing here and there

With a majestic look of fair

Humility and pride they do show

And never entice a single foe

Singing softly they slowly resound

Higher and higher, heir heart doth pound

Beating frantically beneath the chest

The love and cherish as a bird doth his nest

A crisp harmony blows within the breeze

While the kings of the waves dance in the seas

Birds fly and drift all about

As the horned prince portrays a fearsome scout

The hart's fiery eyes dart back and forth

For he doth spot a fury from the north

Darkness begins to form all around

And treacherous noises split the ground

The once beautiful seas transform to thick ice

Still the people think its safe as they frantically slice

But the ice will not break nor even crack

While in their madness they continue to hack

The ones remaining to the forest do scatter

The sound of a gallop causes the sea to shatter

Jagged ice chips fly through the air

Cutting their flesh and bringing despair

They splash and scream insanely around

But the crashing of waves drowns their sound

The sound of the gallop drawing ever near

Fills their hearts with painful fear

Those who ran to the forest do find

That the trees are dead and the bird's blind

The gallop then causes the trees to crumble

As the clouds overhead roar and rumble

The horned prince finds himself trapped

For his horns in a thicket are intricate, wrapped

A hellish shrill rings throughout the sky

And a voice says sobbing, "You're all going to die"

The black horse and cloaked rider stand atop a hill

With face as pure white, showing sorrow he feels

He clutches the reins of his black-as-night steed

As he weeps and grieves over his master's deed

He quotes from a book entitled "Of the Night"

And fill the people with a paralyzing fright

"My master sends word that I must bring

No matter how tragic or horrible the thing

There'll be no mercy for the perishing here

Nor will there be hope to ease your fear

Harmony and love will no longer reign

To replace it is fear, anguish, and pain

Today, tomorrow, you all will die

No matter the time, as bones you will lie

This message is sent to vanquish love's scheme

Sent by the phantom, the Phantom of the Dream!"

Awakened by thyself screaming aloud

No longer to see the death-dealing cloud

Then to realize it was the theme

The theme of the vile Phantom of the Dream

Chapter II:

No Escape

Part I:

Fade to Where?

Oh to vanish from all sight

Would be a comfort to dim the pain

To lose one's mind throughout the night

As crimson manifests it begins to drain

The helm of lunacy is thus broken

As his laugh sends a chill up the spine

By an evil master's token

The blood doth pour rich and fine

His wanting of your pleasant dream

And mournful song he loves to sing

Is of his menacing, haunting scheme

To entangle you within death's ring

Sanity is rare in his place

As deceit and lavish roar up high

To show no love, mercy, or grace

Causes the blood of the heart to dry

How to fight him is not known

Only to awaken would ease the mind

For deliverance is not shown

An exit is for thee to find

Part II:

Forest of Dissolution

Running frantically through a forest

With the sound of a gallop behind

As the tears of fear poureth

While things once beautiful shackles bind

Faster and faster the gallop gains

Immense walls and open gates appear

An image of help the phantom feigns

The gates then transform to a wall of drear

Continuing to run without a thought

Of the open gates turning to stone

Someone cries out "the gate is wrought!"

Your bare feet begin to trample on bone

By the time you've heard that "someone's" cry

The black horse and cloaked rider jolt ahead

He then shrills out "you're going to die!"

Then as you hit the wall you find yourself dead

Chapter III:

The Bride

With gown of Red

And soot to cover

His bride to be

His Bridging lover

Connecting two worlds

Forging an alliance

Unknowingly adding

To his defiance

With this ceremony

He harshly proclaimed

Deceitfully scheming

With this act of disdain

With the shield of love

Clinched in his fist

Holding ever gently

Her petite wrist

In her eyes

She saw not red

But a gown of white

Feigned instead

As a masquerade

Her truth was not

But she knew nothing

Of his conniving plot

Where she saw roses

Of blue and yellow

And heard melodious

Tunes from the cello

Were not but thorns

To prick the fingers

And his choir

Of Demonic Singers

The words "I do"

Was the toll she'd pay

The wine she drank

Was the blood of his prey

Their feast for legions

Of fruit and pork

Was pith and flesh

With bone as fork

At ceremonies end

All was revealed

His master plan

No longer concealed

She abruptly awoke

Not in her bed

But in the valley

The lair of the dead

Chained to stone

On brimstone pillars

With flame and shadow

As crevice fillers

Watching others

Within his nightmare

On separate pillars

Their life not spared

Compelled to view

The Bridegroom cross

The bridge she carved

Now dreamer's loss

Now every mind

Is free to him

Harmless before

No longer mere whim

Chapter IV:

One O'clock

It was midnight when I battled his demons

Not knowing what could be their reasons

As I tossed and turned I saw the cloak

"You will die!" were the words he spoke

Hooves clamped down on me with deadly force

The road of brimstone seemed my course

The tears of the messenger dripped upon me

As black for miles was all I could see

Then slowly crimson filled my eyes

While my body was bitten by the stallion's flies

They nibbled on my face and tore the flesh

And seized me within their bloody mesh

Now one o'clock and all was hell

And cursed be the fools who say all is well

For his messenger continued for hours on end

To ensure his petition he would properly send

Yet again no sight of an escape was near

And nothing even pretended to reduce my fear

Time marched on as the nightmare persisted

And the harshness grew the more I resisted

But I couldn't give in, my time was not up

On my flesh his demons could no longer sup

So with little power remaining I reached for the reins

And with a speedy whip of might added to the stains

With a splatter his head fell to the ground

As the cloaked rider cried out with an ear-piercing sound

Though headless the horse galloped off

And he and his rider in the distance flew aloft

"You failed me!" echoed as lightening flashed

Then the messenger and horse with flames clashed

The ground began to split while fire seeped through

And this nightmare was proving all too true

But with a flash I awoke to find my bed torn apart

And a sudden, piercing pain clinching my heart

I looked down only to find that the phantom still won

For a bedpost through my chest that demon had run

Chapter V:

Teardrop of the Masterpiece

A white Steed

A Valiant Warrior

On this canvas

Stained with horror

Raring backwards

Sword in hand

Ready to charge

For battle's land

Blue eyes

Showing bravery

Wind-blown mane

Unbinding slavery

A beautiful scene

With skies of blue

The sun beams down

Upon the two

Masterpiece painting

Placed in halls

Of cathedrals

And museum walls

Hanging with glory

And honor alike

A harmonious pose

It doth strike

A sudden swipe

Brings forth dark

Clouds of thunder

And lightening spark

A tiny brush

In air afloat

No hand to guide

But a ghostly note

Swiping swiftly

Painting the horse

An evil black

And a sinful course

The ground beneath

Once was field

Now brimstone cover

The grass be killed

The warrior's armor

Changed to cloak

A slaving saddle

With another stroke

Reins to break

The wild and free

Shackles to bind

Clamped to knee

Red to drip

From battle scars

A haunting scene

Beneath the stars

The warrior's face

Turned to pale

With hate to cover

Cast by spell

Directed by a specter

Phantom of the Dream

Master of puppets

Manipulator extreme

Beautiful masterpiece

Wrought to tragic

Scene of pain

By dark magic

No longer hanging

In the halls

Of cathedrals

And museum walls

But taken down

And tucked away

Only to rot

With every day

Now the warrior

Sheds a tear

And forever will

Dream in fear

And as the painting

Sits in a corner

Nothing will ever

Soothe the mourner

The blue paint runs

From his eyes

Staining the ground

As he cries

Doing the work

Of his master

Loving it more

And falling faster

Chapter VI:

Taken Over

Slow eyes blanketed

The images of batter and bone,

Thinking absurd love

Toward sad bedroom footprints

Tracing the deep

And loneliness of the dark,

All the While Stepping

Ever closer to the final descent

This mystical puppeteer

Of terribly enjoyable madness

Tightening more so

With every image of false luster

And finally taking

The blank stairway to all's end,

Fallen has another

For his soldiery to muster

Chapter XX:

Lady in Red

Part I:

The Fallen Warrior

Steam lifted from the smoldering blood. The footprints were fresh. His searing tin had left its impression upon the grit. The remaining horse whinnied from fear and ran for the opposite of my presence. The other still whimpered and moaned from the incision across his spleen, holding on for many moments before he would accept his finality. And there the saint laid, dismembered, death written upon his armor. His blood stained the bone beneath him, to last for many years after that eve. The hero had fallen. Been slain by the sword of a weakling. He had suffered a blow to the back. The Back! Such a Coward! His sword was even found still sheathed. Beside him was a puddle of vomit, still steaming also, and beginning to reek. It was a stomach wrenching vision. One that I would much rather forget, though I will never be able to.

A sad moment, this proved. For that warrior had saved my life on more than one occasion. Failure is all that raced the channels of my mind. He saved me, but I was too late to save him. Such a failure! Not worthy of life or happiness, nor even a chance of redemption. If there had been a sword there that moment I would have taken my own life. Gleefully!

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