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The silent song of Chester Gray

The silent song of Chester Gray, a murderous affair This quiet soul of little word, not known of him to share This eve upon a moaning moor, a pier of rotted wood A body lay alone and cold, where life it once had stood The corpse was clothed, though not its own a size or two, too small And shoeless, showing socks so worn, though mud, no sand did call A male, of middle, weathered age, long years did take their toll A day or two or three or more, did lay this empty soul While Chester Gray, his monocle upon his eye did rest Did query, what’s before us now, does lie, this I attest The clues, a simple clump of straw, a rope of equal length A note, in scribbled written verse, poetic movement strength No grave nor stone nor herald gear, nor silhouette of grief A coin of gold, upon each eye, the night’s profound relief “It seems this man of pauper means did owe a mighty sum To one who held his fist indeed, a' fueled by demon rum You’ll note, the straw, this bolt of beige, once tended with a knot A piece of rope, of cuttered means, not something soon forgot” And last this verse, poetic bard, or something penned of greed More so, a riddle, lines of fate alas, this he did read “Not straw, nor rope, nor empty purse, lost wages passed as sin Shall prove so wicked as the curse, this eve to soon begin Whence deathly sound of piper’ s roam, midst shadows cast o’ long Thy fail to pay, shall breathe the end and lonely silent song” Now Chester Gray did ponder of the stanza’d messaged theme Through quiet thought and gestures slow, his eyes this night did gleam Oh woe is he who fails to heed the hand before his heart With motions tainted endlessly of monies not to part The straw, it comes a flute to bear within a case of wood Once fastened with a silken rope, before this soul had stood Each coin a symbol of the wealth, which promises had placed tween loans now strolling in default and debts long now erased The culprit a musician, for the tune has since been met About the head a beating and the clothes of sad regret The only thing of fortune that the murderer did chose The victim he was found to wear, the most expensive shoes This perpetrator, you will find, with flute he cannot lose Just seek the one, the one alone, to wear expensive shoes And find as the solution to this deadly dark display That all must pay the piper ‘fore the silent song does play

Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2024


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Date: 2/9/2024 6:01:00 AM

Hi Chris, your poetry is wonderful to read again.... (I recently "snuck back in here...") I am holding my ground... Looking forward to your next post! (((Warm Regards))) Aqua M
Date: 1/25/2024 5:15:00 PM

Chris, nice to see you back, a great captivating poem.
Date: 1/25/2024 4:36:00 PM

I enjoyed reading this Chris, great work! This site is for you to do as you wish. You do not have to correspond or support anyone if you choose not to. I’m sorry that you received such a rude comment below.
Date: 1/25/2024 4:05:00 PM

Hi Chris... you've been sadly missed. I hope things are going well for you, neighbor. You don't need to do anything but write when you have time. Not everyone has free time write at will and comment. Your poetry is always worth reading. Hugs xoxo When you have a moment, check your soup mail.
Date: 1/25/2024 2:08:00 PM

A poetic mystery masterpiece Chris. Maria has written a murder mystery as well, currently only on Facebook. In any case, your rhymes and cadence is superb. The sad thing is, you don't support other poets or correspond much, so this is likely to go largely unread. Let's hope for a POTD