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Cyrus Gold May 2016
Centuries past, when lands were shared,
existed houses of varying levels of influence.
A stable democracy established with care,
composed of each dynasty's constituents.

The House of Ravenswood was feared the most,
with rumors surrounding its members;
accusations of witchcraft, sabotage and ******
caused a real lack of contenders.

The Ravenswood dynasty's blood was sacred,
and the family had only one rule:
the members may marry whomever they wish
except for the members of Skrule.

A fair lady from this mysterious family
had beauty matched only by angels unseen;
delicate ivory hair runs past her shoulders
with hazel eyes emitting a magnificent sheen.

This fair lady from Ravenswood,
with a presence so graceful and heavenly,
was heralded as the shining example of perfection
borne of wealth, yet respected by the peasantry.

She would greet the people and roam the land
for inspiration to craft her art,
but when she met a farmer from Skrule,
their hearts refused to depart.

Knowing that their love is forbidden in the land,
they kept their affair a secret.
They risked their lives to be with one another
and swore to each other to keep it.

Fair Lady Ravenswood was naïve at best
with a passion for song and dance;
at a ball one night came a handsome gent
with a mask, thus taking a chance.

In sync with one another, they painted the halls
with a waltz that pleased the crowd.
They danced as a unit with their eyes unmoved,
creating a masterful shroud.

The faceless mask concealed the farmer
but the fair lady knew it was him.
They smiled and kissed but sadly
a guard had recognized him on a whim.

The farmer was taken away from her,
his face revealed to the people;
the crowd in shock that a Skrule and a Ravenswood
had dared to dance as equals.

Her soul was ripped from her body
as she cried out in front of family and friends.
The farmer, no, the equal, she loved
was never to be seen again.

Lady Ravenswood was heartbroken,
as her beloved was gone for a while.
And as time had passed, she feared the worst
and in truth, she carried his child.

The House of Ravenswood, accused of ******,
was crumbling from within;
democracy shifted against their will,
retribution was sought for their sin.

Lady Ravenswood had lost her color
as her house decayed over time;
but her family stood firm and showed no mercy,
punishing her for her crime.

They cursed the lady by trapping her soul
within the castle walls forever;
to make matters worse, they took her child
to be exiled for worse or for better.

The dynasty's influence began to diminish
and their numbers were stretched and few;
as the coalition came and knocked that night,
there was little that they could do.

A battle was waged and the castle was raided
with the rivals standing in victory;
the cries of heaven had tamed those fires
with Ravenswood wiped from history.

But just before they left their mark,
the intruders saw a girl.
A worn-out dress soaked in Ravenswood blood
had signaled the end of her world.

Cursed Lady Ravenswood stood alone
against these bandits, with a knife;
her warnings appeared on the cursed walls
as she brought the castle to life.

Raven wings protrude from her back
as her body turns pale and cold;
now frozen in fear, they halt their attack
as they watch the mutation unfold.

"**** the witch! She mustn't leave!"
but they witnessed her soul ascend;
with the dark sky pouring its midnight rain,
she was never to be seen again.

Unbeknownst to the people, the lady remained
at the vacant and wretched castle for good;
she waits an infinity for her beloved
at the cursed House of Ravenswood.
Negative Chapter to a Multi-Part series that I've written.
Mrs. Gabrielle Giovannitti comes along Peoria Street
     every morning at nine o'clock
With kindling wood piled on top of her head, her eyes
     looking straight ahead to find the way for her old feet.
Her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Pietro Giovannitti, whose
     husband was killed in a tunnel explosion through
     the negligence of a fellow-servant,
Works ten hours a day, sometimes twelve, picking onions
     for Jasper on the Bowmanville road.
She takes a street car at half-past five in the morning,
     Mrs. Pietro Giovannitti does,
And gets back from Jasper's with cash for her day's
     work, between nine and ten o'clock at night.
Last week she got eight cents a box, Mrs. Pietro
     Giovannitti, picking onions for Jasper,
But this week Jasper dropped the pay to six cents a
     box because so many women and girls were answering
     the ads in the Daily News.
Jasper belongs to an Episcopal church in Ravenswood
     and on certain Sundays
He enjoys chanting the Nicene creed with his daughters
     on each side of him joining their voices with his.
If the preacher repeats old sermons of a Sunday, Jasper's
     mind wanders to his 700-acre farm and how he
     can make it produce more efficiently
And sometimes he speculates on whether he could word
     an ad in the Daily News so it would bring more
     women and girls out to his farm and reduce operating
     costs.
Mrs. Pietro Giovannitti is far from desperate about life;
     her joy is in a child she knows will arrive to her in
     three months.
And now while these are the pictures for today there are
     other pictures of the Giovannitti people I could give
     you for to-morrow,
And how some of them go to the county agent on winter
     mornings with their baskets for beans and cornmeal
     and molasses.
I listen to fellows saying here's good stuff for a novel or
     it might be worked up into a good play.
I say there's no dramatist living can put old Mrs.
     Gabrielle Giovannitti into a play with that kindling
     wood piled on top of her head coming along Peoria
     Street nine o'clock in the morning.
Sid Eli A  Dec 2013
Toasty
Sid Eli A Dec 2013
"Hm", the girl says in your bed.
Red wine and yummy chocolate - what a great mix
Moving and grooving to the beat of the music
Oh, la la.
A pleasant smell in the air, flowing, in and out into me
Colors of your blankets, subtle navy blue, velvet red (you might disagree)

Reeses, what a treat! Something devils would eat
Talking food, one of my pleasures, Ethopian - I want to eat!
Let me speak for Ravenswood, it treats me well and keeps
me toasty!
And Juanita's, Fiesta bag, crispy not too greasy
Crunchy in my mouth, mmm!
An offering of a chip with special sauce, thank you sir!'
Sauce man, confidence

He says he had heart problems
The consequences of the pleasures of food
"I need to end it but I don't know how to"
"It'll come to you"

Your roommate,
Sid
Cyrus Gold Jan 2018
From the void that beckons,
we see that heaven's near,
but the darkness that engulfs us
keeps our cries from shedding tears

The rain would fall and cleanse the Earth
so the people praised it well
The castle walls had heard its song
right as midnight struck its bell

But when she cast infinity
the rain hadn't had its fill
so sadly clouds were forced to flee
yet the days grew* darker still

Pluck the wings of ravens
to prevent the coming flood
The ones who offer haven
let their fingers run with blood

The Court was born to trim the herd
who swear to Ravenswood
They seek the one ill-fated girl
to restore our land for good

'Cause when she cast infinity
the Earth was standing still
Her soul can harm eternity
as the days grow
darker still

Believers of their noble cause
shall be met with open arms
They only seek to halt the pause
by the grace of love and harm

Putrid souls are sacrificed
for the weakness that they show
The Court shall welcome crimson tides
as their looming shadows grow

'Cause when she cast infinity
it was nature that she killed,
but now the Court will set us free
Advent days are
*brighter still.
Prologue to a multi-part series I wrote.

— The End —