I have always been fascinated by the decadent atmosphere found in abandoned show rooms, and add a dash of Kaizers Orchestra


Theatre of the Departed

They enter my hall on stumbling feet
wistfully utttering words of loss and deceit
crude embodiments of heretical graces
traces of mildew on their ashen faces

A crescendo of ghostly laughter and wine
the rustling of silk and forgotten lines
A midnight play for unaware guests
A childhood caress or my deepest distress

A pallid maestro of the orchestra commence
In a hasty, horrid walz beyond mortal sense
the rush of blood enshrouds all reason
whirling through Persephone`s social season

Shattered mirrors reflect flourishing rays
Wings flutter and disappear without trace
Dark is withdrawing and dust is settling slowly
On a stage scented with old grandeur and melancholy




Poetry by Melancholia
Read 911 times
Written on 2005-09-04 at 01:27

Tags Sadness 

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pettyodd
sykt bra skildringer i tekstene dine!
likte denne best:)
2006-09-03



This poem has nicely exploited the form of rhyming couplets in quatrains; and the association of ideas with the form is truly wonderful.
2005-09-13


Melancholia
quite true..
2005-09-04


chasingtheday The PoetBay support member heart!
though the places maybe abandoned, there is always the shades of past times, time, it is clinging t the here and now, but yesterday, that too was once the here and now, who is to say it still is not!
2005-09-04


Melancholia
agian, thank you, I think..
2005-09-04


StillHoppin The PoetBay support member heart!
old grandeur smells wonderful (thinking of empty theatres and mildewed curtains of the stage), but mix it with the melancholy and it comes out smelling like crap.
2005-09-04