Church Bells

Those crimson roses are wilted.

The fragile blue violets are wan.

My entire world has tilted,

Since the day that you were gone.

You left me as summer drew its last breath.

And I sobbed to find you taken by death.

On an August day, my heart was aglow.

But now December shall only bring snow.

The stars are gone from the night sky.
The moon hid itself in shame

But no one ever made you die-

There is no one here to blame.

But dying was truly your greatest crime

For with it you broke my heart.

Not even the healing balm of time.

Can help me with a fresh start.

My angel, you were my only love.

You were truly without compare.

But now you are gone to the heavens above.

How could you leave me in such despair?

I dream of you by moonlight

But sometimes you look dead

And though it’s just a dream at night

I’d have it in the truth’s stead

True love will last forever

That’s what all the poets say

But otherwise I’d sever

My painful link to you away

I walk by your grave every day,

And wonder at what hellish thing

Stole you from earth and took you away

Leaving me sick at death’s cold sting.

The church bells ring to match my fear

And my heart then fills with dread.

T’was your funeral that day my dear,

Set for the day we would have wed.

Love, as they played the funeral dirge,

I stared up to the winter sky.

My voice with the choir’s did not merge,

I would not sing their lie.

They said that that we would meet again,

When I passed through heaven’s gate.

But no kind words can stop the pain.

I cannot bear the wait.

Day by day now, I sit alone.

Pale and wan with sorrow.

My heart, my soul are turned to stone.

But I have some hope for the morrow.

I cannot wait for you, my dear.

So I will meet you this very night.

My mind is set, and crystal clear.

I will once more know delight.

It could be a dream, or it could be real.

Either way, I now see you again.

The church bells are ringing their final peal,

My suicide was a success then.

-- Isilthrar

This poem was the very first I ever wrote, though considerably revised. The first edition was, quite frankly, terrible, though at the time, I was very proud of it. Over time I lost my rose coloured glasses and my regard for it lessened. Now quite frankly, on a good, nostalgic day, I’ll think of it as tolerable.

And yes. I was trying for an Edgar Allan Poe feel.

No. I did not succeed.