Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Peeping Tom's Curse

On cooling nights in autumn when the leaves are chilly bright
The scent of burning apple wood rises from streets at night
I often like to amble midst the storefronts and the bramble,
To watch my fellows traveling a forest made of light.

I see them with their overcoats that break the razor wind,
I hear their frequent commenting that winter will begin,
Oh how I watch and listen (and I sometimes catch ‘em kissin!)
These travelers who do not notice me beyond the din.

It’s not yet time for holidays, but up here in Vermont,
The fall brings many leaves to peep, and that’s the tourist want,
So they stroll oblivious to all my gazing devious
And never taking notice of the shadows that I haunt

Please do not tell the visitors I’m watching as they go,
They all are better off if they are never let to know
For those who can detect me, more than those who just suspect me,
Will never more find beauty in an autumn alpenglow.

Oh, please do not for one moment think that I wish them ill
I simply state the way it’s been for forty years now still,
Since I left the mortal plane this curse has brought nothing but pain,
And so I keep hidden from all those but the most evil.

When I was young I spent many a day upon the road,
Traveling Tom was my name, curiosity bestowed,
I walked around aimlessly, with nature on the brain, you see,
Astounded at the bounty that the trees would soon unload.

It was this fatal gazing that would prove my great downfall,
For casting my gaze all around it rested on the mall,
Where, between two businesses, and safe away from witnesses
I saw a murder happening and, “STOP!” out I did call.

‘Twas that impulsive outcry that would prove my fatal break,
Before too long I’d suffer the result of my mistake,
The villain heard my cry, and chased me down, and made me to die,
But first a curse I laid upon him had its chance to take:

“On you,” I said with final breath, “a curse I do impart
That nevermore shall anything but darkness find your heart,
My soul shall not splinter and shall haunt you every winter
Now let this ground be cursed when my spirit doth depart.”

But curses made with final breath do seldom find reprieves,
And as a ghost this spot I haunt; my vengeance it receives
I should have been specific rather than so damn sadistic

Remember then, when gazing, keep your eyes upon the leaves.

This is a late autumn/Halloween inspired poem.


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