Thread: A collection of poetry by Haunted Horseman

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No, you are entertaining people also! It's like people who volunteer because it makes them feel good... either way, everyone wins.

The Quill of Souls
By Haunted Horseman

She arrived at this place after a life of despair:
For thirty odd years, she endured more than most could bear.

Misfortune and pain seemed her lot in this cruel life;
Her faith in God lost, with her poverty and strife.

As she contemplated death at her very own hands;
A vision appeared, a handsome stranger strolling the sands.

“So quick to give up after such a hard fight?”;
“A cure for your misery I can offer you this night.”

She dropped her short blade as she glanced toward his face;
She was willing to consider this, a different end to this race.

“All can be yours, fortune, power and fame.;”
“At a price you can afford, the simple signing of your name.”

A graceful snap of his finger and a tome did appear;
A fine treasure of parchment, how old seemed unclear.

And beside this ledger, an old quill did gently rest;
Which seemed to beckon her, like the shore to a wave’s crest.

“Take it my child and put and end to your shame;”
“Once ink touches paper, a binding deal we shall claim.”

She took hold of the feather and slowly began to scribe;
With each letter she wrote, she felt more memories revive.

All the pain and sorrow seemed to leave her very being;
Through the quill, onto the page, like the ink she was bleeding.

But along with the bad memories, went her feelings of joy;
The love for her mother, the happiness of a child with a new toy.

Her very spirit was drained as her legs quickly gave way;
She fell to her knees, overwhelmed by feelings of hopelessness and dismay.

The book slowly closed and faded gently into the night:
As the stranger’s sinister laugh accented her horror and fright.

She rose to her feet, eyes still filled with tears;
And turned toward the stranger, in hopes of taming her fears.
“Don’t fret little creature, you’ll get all promise and more:”
“Your time on this earth will be delightful, not heart wrenching like before.”

“But what of the next life.?” She most somberly pled:
“Will my deeds be judged in earnest, after this mortal coil has been shed?”

His laugh was much louder as he leaned toward her stand;
“No judgment day for you, Dear, you saw to that with your own hand.”

“When I summon you, you will come as the death bell will toll;”
“For your fate was sealed forever by the mighty quill of souls.”

You need to take days off of work more often, man, if it gives you the opportunity to write poems like this!