This ode to the chase was forwarded to me from a searcher who wants to remain anon because he thinks he knows where the treasure is and doesn’t want the birds to give away his secret. Everyone will recognize that it’s a take-off from Edgar Allen Poe’s Quote the Raven Nevermore. f
Only the Phantom
Once upon a night inspired, while I pondered weak and tired,
Over many a curious volume laden with a treasure lore,
While I plotted on its mapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As a Shadow’s gently rapping, rapping at my bedroom door.
‘`Tis a butterfly,’ I muttered, ‘fluttered by my bedroom door –
Only this, and nothing more.’
Ah, distinctly a tinkling bell rings in the spirit of a spell,
I listened good and listened well… there was no ringing at the door.
So, eager for a bath and rest; -as vainly I had sought the best
Path forward to surcease the quest – fulfill the quest for gold and more,
That it begins where eagles nest, then down into the canyon’s core –
Nameless here for evemore.
Suddenly my soul grew weaker; Shadow at the inter. speaker,
‘Sir,’ said I, my heart grows meeker, ‘this IS my place so I implore;
But the fact is I was halting, these hot waters from exalting
These warm waters from assaulting, threshold of the bathroom door’,
And, as I slipped into my sneaker, looked quickly down through open door; –
Shadow there, and nothing more.
Then fast asleep, lasting escape…, there’s rustling of the Phantom’s cape
That chased me – thrilled me with fantastic and covered me from pore to pore;
So that now, my heart stopped beating, through the shadow twilight fleeting
‘`Tis the Shadow now entreating and this fantasy explore.
Moaning Phantom at the window, knowing Shadow through the door;-
This is it and nothing more,’
And as the evening shades prevail, thinking of those who passed the vale,
Attentive still to Phantom’s wail, heard somewhat louder than before.
As the silence was then broken, but the Shadow gave no token
And the only words then spoken were the whispered words, ‘NO MORE!’
`Twas Phantom on my bathroom scale, wishing he was just forty-four,
Ounces that is, and nothing more.
‘There’s circumstantial evidence, I’ll be your guide in dream or trance,
Through wiles of nature, circum-stance; you’ll tract a thread to golden ore’,
Said Phantom perched upon the scale. ‘And have you trekked this secret trail?’
Asked I, afraid the chase might fail, ‘Have you’ve been down this path before?’
‘Alone and bold I went by chance’. ‘Phantom!’ said I, ‘but that’s infernal’,
And the moment seemed eternal… ‘How deeper then, should I explore?”
Quoth the Phantom, ‘Four-two-four’.
Merely this and nothing more.
And if this blending plagiarism, seems poor labour of a mime.
That changes… looking through the prism, of vodka raspberry and lime.
For, in expanding Universe, there is no lesser of a crime,
Than at the ending of a verse, copying and pasting of a rhyme.
It could be worse! (I’m out of time)