Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 14)

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 14) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~

~

Beating retreat, flaming less bolder,

Dampened ash, smoking smoulder,

Wisps and whirls and hoary purls,

Swirled about the figure curling.

~

A furtive glimpse quickly stolen,

This flaring fiend from fire woven,

Feathers furled, glistered golden,

Rippled as if molten motion.

~

Twas spectral without solidity.

An entity with lucidity,

A translucent vision, an apparition,

An ethereal being beyond description.

~

It stood or floated, perhaps it hovered,

Black in body, face covered –

A formless shape in cloak or cape,

Shifting, drifting in the breeze.

~

Tho’ briefly seen thro’ fire’s sheen –

Beyond a screen of rising thermal,

I had no doubt what looked out,

Nothing less than paranormal.

~

Compelled to gawp, gape and gaze,

Across the sand thro’ dying blaze,

I watched the spectre turn its head,

In my direction its leer was led.

~

I knew it saw me, I felt its glare:

Stabbing with its piercing stare,

Seized by eyes that were not there,

I was entrapped, ensnarled, ensnared.

~

Fervid fear in my stomach pit,

Bit with bile, dried my spit,

Ill at ease without my wits,

I hunkered down ‘neath rock parapet.

~

I shot quick glance across the bay:

A place of refuge to make my way,

But alas! Only towering cliffs of grey,

Surrounded the cove ascending away.

~

Stalled and stilled, static, inert,

Fingers raked through dampened dirt –

In hope of bough or sturdy staff,

Something solid to defend myself.

~

Yet barren about me upon the sand,

No robust tool came to hand,

Frantic was I when in my sight,

Came creeping tendrils of waxen light.

~

These pallid blooms probing gloom,

Opaque at first grew brighter,

Until in fact ‘tween every crack,

Shone shafts of light ever whiter.

~

Where umbra hid behind my boulder,

Soon bathed in light, blazing bolder –

Darkness illumed, shade consumed,

My shadow set in silhouette.

~

So sudden before me towering tall,

The spectral form of this faceless ghoul,

Stood staring down upon my crown,

As fear further fed my dread.

~

But yet, I sensed no menace or malevolence,

No prevalence of maleficence,

Instead a palpable benevolence –

A quality of graceful elegance.

~*~

~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 13) precedes this post. Part 15 to follow shortly ~

~*~