Red Death

The following poem is based off of Edgar Allen Poe's Mask of the Read Death, Enjoy.

From a start of a kingdom cliche, 
They find their lives in disarray. 
A plague of that the devil called, 
Splattered blood among home and all. 
No savior shown from the crimson curse, 
Seeking sanctuary from the coming hearse. 
A prince who watched his kingdom rot, 
Sought to help but had not fought. 
Instead he and living fled, 
And had the bleeding left for dead. 
To help forget this gutless creed, 
And the helpless cries of dying in need. 
A party held, a masquerade ball, 
Much of which was loved by all. 
With six rooms in colored splendor, 
Brilliantly lit by the brightest embers. 
Each colored with specific hues, 
Orange, whites, purples, and blues. 
But a seventh sat in the back, 
With every item cloaked in black. 
The unsightly room deterred every guest, 
With the feeling it had not been blessed. 
Within the room a towering clock, 
With sounds more than a pendulum knock. 
A gauntly gong upon the hour, 
Taking the fragrance from the elegant flower. 
That was this night the prince sowed from seed, 
Which was disturbed by the underbreed. 
A single figure in corpse’s shroud, 
The room was silent but the fear was loud. 
And upon his rotted vest, 
Dribbled scarlet of a bloodied mess. 
The prince enraged by this ploy, 
Sought the man who thought himself coy. 
Through every room he chased the man, 
Viewed upon by the spectating band. 
The blackened room which was last, 
The prince came first, his guards he passed. 
There he lunged, a scream, and clatter, 
Which was the sound of the fallen dagger. 
The guards came soon and caught the man, 
Removed his mask and found his plan. 
His infected blood in every room, 
The droplets sealing each patron’s doom. 
Dying cries rang through the house, 
Then had nothing left but a feast for a mouse.

Author's Note

Please tell me what you think. I want to improve my writing.

Reviews

[DiskartetHaraya]

This is a nice re-telling. The rhymes did not come off as forced.

While a lot more colorful than the original, the gaiety did not overshadow the gloom. For me, it even made it more disturbing.

I also like how concise and non-redundant it was for me, and how you made use of the last room to signal the turn of events. Whereas the haunting sound of a clock took emphasis in the short story, in this poem I found the use of vivid imagery affective, standing out from the already rhyme-filled aspect of it.

[Matthew Kult]

Beautifully tributed

Great Read

Matthew