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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1148347-The-Figurine
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by ImS Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1148347
Short story in rythmic form
Once with lively joy and pep
A bearded man climbed down the steps
With twisted hobble on a cane
And clambered down the narrow lane.

Then with squinted eye a-gleaming
Quickened step and face a-beaming
Threw himself upon a table
Grasping hard as fast as able

A figurine with memory’s hold.

With jolly temper, eyebrows thick
The market man lift up his stick
And pointed to the man so bold
“That’s quite a lovely catch I’m told”

And hastened he with all his glee
To pull a coin from out his sleeve
And place it in the hand of him
Whose smile now flows over rim.

“Be this the coin which think it I
For ne’er has this come to my eye
I thank you kindly for this gift
And take your token, take it swift

While you with eager mind give this”.

“The joy is mine be not afraid
Keep that you shall, you’ve well been paid
For this an awesome price to pay
For me it is a fine, fine day.

“And why I ask want that you so
to pay with quickness and with gold?”
“That you need not ask of I
I leave it to nostalgia’s eye

And there it rests till yea I die.”

“Such gift you give, I wish it so
Yet truly I can never know
For certainly it must be grand
The story of that thing in hand.”

“Truly yes I think it so
That ne’er shall any other know
The story hidden, as it should
Though dare I say it is quite good.”

“Therefore, I leave it hidden well
With yearning heart, but nay don’t tell
For there it is and there it stays
Until perhaps another day

When you with open heart come forth.”

“I thank you greatly for this gem
For deep in my heart does it stem
And there in my mind shall it be
Until perhaps one day set free.”

“And so good day, I’ve much to do
To you my friend a fair adieu
You keep it well that thing of mine
And think again of other times

For long desired it must have been
And long sought after now it seems
But gracious you have been to me
So gladly I give that to thee.”

And gladly taken it remains

And so with hobble on his cane
He clambered back the narrow lane
With smile grown from ear to ear
And stairs to home now drawing near.

But with a sudden glance of eye
A figure there did he then spy
A figure there in deepened dark
An alleyway so grim and stark

Yet runs a man through fading light.

So slink he does through dirty hall
Of rock and rubble mice and all
To find this figment of darkness’ eye
Mayhap some secret haunting tie.

Yet nay a man could he make out
So quite confused and filled with doubt
He makes his way back alley long
When comes a vicious nasty throng

Of youthful men with stick and club
And most like coming from shady pub
To find a victim to ensnare
And there in alley rip and tear

Such that a man should never bear.

So quick and light he sprang from sight
In boxes safe yet stunk with blight
And there he waits for passersby
And hopes to God he slips their eye.

To luck’s great scheme, or so he thought
His hasty disguise the young men bought
And just as he slip out of box
The mystery man his sight does clock

Go running back across the way
And into burrow with cover of hay
And man with cane go clippity clop
And dive in burrow to that man stop

Yet there he sees a frightening sight.

For in that burrow duggen deep
Is full a room with evil keep
With men of cruelty, men of spite
All resting there to spend the night

To fear of man who fate would fall
Now comes a dirty man to call
And stops he there by burrow’s door
And bends he there but does no more

Though looks he feared man face to face.

And now to fright of feeble man
A wish that far away he ran
Yet here he lies in dread and fear
And looks he now away to rear.

“Come now, Be you not afraid
For sure you know to where you’ve strayed
Yet think I not to see your face
So pale and empty in its place.”

“Nay, nay, surely I meant this way
For here I’ve spent a many day
And here I come yea once again
To drink of ale in pleasing den

And speak again to long past friend.”

“O, truly now you speak to me
You of olden times to see
The wrinkled fright upon your face
A rotting corpse might have such grace!

I know of you and yea I too
Do know of figure helden you
For this a treasure to behold
To many, pockets filled with gold.”

“I care not he who speak me thus
For nay you beat and scourge and cuss
Never shall you grip the thing
I found today for memory’s sting

Is stronger here than any harm of yours.”

“If give you me that precious ‘thing’
Than nay shall I cause cursed ring
Of pain and torture, then of death
And toss on Dead Heap you with rest.”

“Nay shall you coerce me thus
I feel no fear for say I must
That I would rather die with this
Than live a thousand year with kiss

Of horrid regret still thick in mind.”

“Tell me you with such demand
For tiny token in your hand
Wherefore seek you such an end
And how then might I make you bend.”

"Never shall I part with this
For it to me brings oh such bliss
To look upon it fair indeed
But for my memory, coals to feed.

There are such things which are to me
Much dearer than the land and sea
This precious thing I must defend
So nay I say I shall not bend

To you nor any other man."

"Than say you now whatever prayer
You wish, to God or Muses fair
For 'tis to them I send you thus!"
And with no sigh or cry or cuss

The man's laid down, his figure clutched.
© Copyright 2006 ImS (arcshade at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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