Ballad of a Graveyard Gala

Ballad of a Graveyard Gala

A Poem by OctoberDawn

Love is eternal, not even the sting of death can tear true love apart.


 Undulating through the fog; the canvas of the night,

whose capacious bounds of fear are rivaled only by the mind's.

     Senses sharpen in the dark, though brave facades may fail,

erudition is inept when satan's minions start to wail.

     Though Credulity breeds terror, (that much I shall admit)

the reality of what happened on me that night shall now be writ.

     The sumptuous moon hung low that night, as if wearied by it's weight,

it's drowsy light cut through the fog to eyes whose life was late.

     To say that she had pulchritude, by far is understated,

for even after 'dead and buried' her beauty had not faded...


        ...And we danced under moonlight, reflecting her blue eyes.

She's light on her feet, cause' she's not even breathing...


Glassy eyes fell back into my gaze, pensively she smiled,

 I failed to see her jaw unhinge, enraptured all the while.

     Through intinerent perambulations, many wonders I beheld,

but her beauty was rivaled only by the stench of which she smelled.

     Hand-in-hand we walked together, through forest, wood, and glen,

until we reached the hilltop and watched the harvest moon begin.

     Hours passed in her embrace, late-Autumn winds did chill,

the sting of which did rival not waking alone upon the hill.

     My wistful eyes are dimmer now, and brittle bones are bound to break,

but my life upon that blessed night I do indeed now stake...


        ...Because we danced under moonlight, reflecting her blue eyes.

We were light on our feet, cause' we weren't even breathing..

© 2012 OctoberDawn

Author's Note

I wrote this poem a little while ago, attempting to mix romance with a little tongue-in-cheek.

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Ha hah! Love it!
Reminded me of Tim Burton's Corpse Bride.

Posted 12 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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Added on June 16, 2012
Last Updated on June 16, 2012




My name is Criss Hill, I'm 20 and I'm from Colorado. I don't so much consciously write poetry as my heart takes control of my pen and urges me to capture a pale fragment of the beauty and heartbreak o.. more..

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