Poem: The Kiss of the Vampyre
Well, I wrote this poem in college when I was bored. It might not be very good by adult standards, but keep in mind I'm only 16. I hope to get better at poetry as I grow older, but for now this will have to do:
The Kiss of the Vampyre:
'Twas an eerie frosted winter morn, when begins this tale so strange,
the trees were gnarled and bare of leaves, the ground below a purest white,
the silence, yea, no sound was heard; but still a weird quiet was,
when then there came a sound of bells, not joyous but a solemn tune,
from holy spire, the church's height; the word that Death had struck again.
No sound was heard, ne'er a sound; but then there came the Raven's call;
the message of the underworld, Hell's own herald spoke its curse:
in the night the slain would rise, to taste once more a living neck,
the blood that flows through man's own veins, elixir of eternal life.
'Twas that night a velvet black, the heavens gave no light divine. Unholy night, Hell's cursed spawn, who knew what thy darkness hid?
Within the crypt of chilling cold, was heard a sound; a waking moan,
O what awakes that lies in death? What lives that died a day ago?
None that slept that night would know, but maiden Marian so pure.
Ah virgin worth of lustful eyes, such beauty born of Heaven's hands:
her skin so white as fallen snow, her locks as dark as that same night,
her lips as red as princely rose, from Venus' own divine garden.
Bathed in shadows, lying still, unsuspect of what spied her.
'Twas then she saw the shadows grow, long and lithe toward her bed,
and then she saw a flash of white, and felt a bite upon her neck;
yea sharpened teeth had cut her skin, and tasted warmth within her throat.
No scream came from her reddened lips, this pain, 'twas not like pain should be,
but pleasure, Heaven fallen then; this fallen angel so impure,
had left his mark, and tasted blood, it ran crimson upon the sheet.
She longed to see his soulless eyes, and see the longing in them grow,
she begged to come in his embrace, to seize the night and fly away, and she would live forever more, without restraint of mortal sins.
'Twas a cold and bitter morning next, when ends this tale as it began,
where was it set, this weird tale? Ah yes, the house above the church!
When came the lord and all his men, to his young daughter's chamber then,
toward her bed he thus approached, and called her name with no reply,
he turned and saw an empty bed, and naught but crimson bloody stains,
"Who left this mockery for me?" he called, and all his men stood still and fast.
He searched and searched but found not her, he cried for all the town to hear,
but never was his daughter found, never Marian so pure;
a shadow took her in the night, mortal life gone with a kiss.
"Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'"
- The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe
"The reaper's at my door now-And he's come to take me home..."
- Sacrifice, London After Midnight