#STITCHEDSATURDAY- James Matthew Byers, the Darque Bard

The Necromancer’s Fancy

Upon the edge of Halloween
With midnight closing in,
I marveled at what I had seen
As much to my chagrin
Another corpse refusing life
In limbo flatly lay.
Incisions marked by blade of knife
Confounded disarray.
A coroner, my trade by day,
By night, a maddened fool,
For many years, I lived this way.
I steadied up each tool.
Intent to be as Frankenstein
Creating things from death,
I hastened as I poured some wine
And swallowed up a breath.
Unlike the tales we had been told
Of scientific feat,
A bit of magic in the mold
From pages obsolete
Incorporated in my plan,
For sorcery was fast
And I was not a patient man,
Therefore I chose to cast.
The Creature had been lightning based
With science fully clothed.
However here the thing I chased
Had more than once disrobed
And buried me in naked guilt.
I could not fathom why
The pieces I had used to quilt
Refused to just comply.
Another gulp of liquid hope
To quell the fever’s crawl
Had hung me by an angry rope
As ticking on the wall
Became a slowing, beating drum.
Another tick then tock …
A cuckoo sung a lulling hum;
The Witching Hour in stock.
No lever pulled or engine’s roar,
No, nothing but my voice
Employed the daunting open door
Of what had been my choice.
Cadavers stacked beside me loomed
Within the morgue in stink
And as the smell at once consumed,
I took another drink.
Around me needles oozing muck
With rust and dabs of blood
Escaped from places they were stuck
To flow as if a flood.
And all at once, the silent dead
In unison replied.
“We rise, we rise,” the corpses said.
“From Hell, we have been pried!”
Another gulp, another glance,
Among my disbelief-
So long I had this failed romance
With only failure’s grief.
A grin besmirched my glowing face
As all around I saw
A dozen standing in my place
Before my gaping maw.
But something in the air was wrong;
I sensed it far too late.
The spell I once had loudly sung
Now offered me my fate.
The way the Creature loathed the one
Who gave him life to live,
I saw that now- my time was done,
Although what I could give
Had seemed to pass these beings by.
Among the morgue, they went
And I began to slowly die,
My time with them short spent …

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