It's up to you

narrative verse

 

It’s up to you

 

The mist that crept in from the sea.

Advancing inexorably,

enveloped first the sandy beach.

Then well beyond the high tides reach

 

Invaded streets and avenues

the thoroughfares that people use.

To go about their business.

A wet and cold unpleasantness.

 

Which nobody had seen before

 at least along that friendly shore.

Exuding sheer hostility

 as if the demons of the sea.

 

Deciding that humanity.

had forfeited their right to be.

Had gathered there with one intent

 to prove the sea omniscient.

 

The villagers were sore afraid

 some cursed and swore while others prayed.

Though neither made much difference.

 Against such mist there’s no defence.

 

The village disappeared from sight.

Hid by a mist as black as night.

When morning broke there was no one.

No body left to greet the sun.

 

Now to this day the village stands

although nobody understands.

What happened on that dreadful night

when the sea fret absorbed the light.

 

No one survived to tell the tale.

 Enough to make the bravest quail.

Perhaps you think I’m telling lies

But you will find to your surprise.

 

If you should choose to visit me

from my front window you can see.

The evidence that what say

A village empty to this day.

 

Nobody dares to move into

 the empty village and renew

a single house in which to live.

Because of legends kept alive.

 

By older folks who can recall

 the night the demons came to call.

If you should wish to you could buy

 the whole village and you could try.

 

To sell the houses one by one

 if you’re convinced it can be done.
I think your work would be in vain

What happened once could come again.

 

To local folks it is taboo

 and there is nothing you can do.

but try to sell to foreigners

Who do not know about the curse.

 

I own the site and I would sell

 quite cheaply and I’d wish you well

If you’re prepared to take the chance

There’s been a change of circumstance.

 

For there are profits to be made.
Maybe the mist will not invade

maybe the tales I tell aren’t true

what you believe is up to you.

 

 I am too old to change my ways

 and I prefer to end my days

believing as I’ve always done.

This village should left alone.

 

24-Jul-08

 

http:// blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

Reviews

[Traces]

Very nicely written...it flows beautifully and the ryhme is perfect. Holly

[Deborah Leah Krempa]

Quite an eerie story. Great poem. Thank you for sharing. Debileah