Gothic's Castle of Life

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
I am a curious spider, yes it’s me in the mirror,...

Submitted: June 09, 2015

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Submitted: June 09, 2015

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"Gothic’s Castle of Life"


I am a curious spider, yes it’s me in the mirror,
A tranquil spider who fashions, webs of mine taste.
Decorated with folly, decorated with pride,
Decorated with sins, not to hide.


Webs that are real, for all to see,
For honesty is freer, strings to be.
Many know my secret, no harm to beset,
All free to visit, my garden and lair.


Those who visit, my forest to rest,
Are strange and glorious, creatures of life.
All bare their own markings, their desires to live,
So “hang around” to chill, with peace to give.


I dream of fanciful things, gold and silver,
Black marble and walnut, gems that sparkle.
Gothic castles my favorite, stones that live,
Wrought iron with angels, those demons too.


Modern life bores me, for it has no flame,
Old character with charm, may thee warm my soul.
I love tall ceilings, let’s swim in the sky,
Tiny rooms make one cozy, with candles nearby.


Candles are better, than electric fire,
They bring back the wisdom, of ancient days.
Widow’s Nook look, the very top of the spire,
For the castle as tall, as it is wide.


She climbs to the sun, as the rooms get smaller,
Smaller and smaller, ‘till they reach the moon.
Up high above, the wind plays with its wings,
Fireflies below low, sing owls chants of bats.


Widow’s tiny table, one can sit at top,
To peer far beyond, shame’s windows of pain.
It is there that I ponder, this smoke of old pipes,
To drink ancient wine, and enjoy the night.


Life’s work is grand, someday shall I share it,
All my friends, who cared for time’s grace.
Time’s eyes so young, questioning and declaring,
Experience’s sharing, that life is hard.


Step in the tall tailors, the short ones too,
With needles and pins, silk ‘round all the room.
Black velvet and lace, is all to be fashioned,
A Gothic Victorian, party named Passion.


Tis all to party, by the fire nigh,
A party with wine, beer, and old liquor.
The choicest meal, stone ovens blazing,
A table so long, for the eyes to peer.


Each chair has arms, to hug individuals so special,
Carefully made to smile, for each chair is unique.
Everyone sits, at this table so grand,
Noise of the laughing, talking still stands.


Black horses marry carriages, flower petals adorned,
Merry and Bliss, smile after the meal.
The eyes glisten charmed, their love of life,
Friends are so cool, to have in life.


For all have found grace, this Gothic castle of Life,
Yet each ones carriage, roams streets of strife.
My spider silk mind, listens to the clicks,
Black horses dance playful, in the moon of bliss.


Tiny kingdoms these carriages, all travel behind,
One after each other, to the still secret place.
Moon’s so bright, light bounces back full,
The party’s just started, cold night so still.


All kinds of music, for all to hear,
Dancing and praising, all the life’s tears.
For we are creatures, in honesty of songs,
So let’s dance to life’s fears, tell them to move on.


What is the meaning, this the ink of life,
It’s friendship that starts, words penned down.
"Would you be my friend", only five short words,
Yet enough to birth, Gothic’s Castle of Life.


Copyright © 2012, Snow Luminos ™, David J. Hinkle


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