A castle
deserves a ghazal
but a clerihew
would do.
Ghazal
Boom!Fists on the massive door resound; booming around cold walls
to wake the dead or smirking village folk who cower in your shade.
So there, boom! and round it rings, let, let me, let me in I say, I must
survey
else why call me here, to what purpose, to this place of long rain and
gloomy hills?
Boom! Look, you let the rats, see, there, one glitters on the moat, a comet,
bedraggled light-star, sneaks a way, come on, let me in, I'm K, a man, no
rat I.
Give me reason, I’ll have one, slam your peephole as you may, disdain me,
my papers are in order, boom! where is the owner, the haughty castellan?
Sat to his supper under the chandelier’s falls of light, the log-warmed room
and minstrels in the gallery, his smiling lady and a gathered host.
Loom over me! Ravens watching from the misty towers, owls in the
battlements,
bloom their feathers at my racket, boom! and I hear your furtive footsteps
creep.
Soft slither over the wet cobbles, obsequious to one and
arrogant to another, the tyranny of pert office, impenetrable ramparts,
thwart my siege, boom! my pleas might undermine the calls of Death,
but finds no entry to a flintier heart. I’ll come again tomorrow.
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