Tag: soul

Lilac Lane

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101, Dark Poetry

Many have lived here through the years,

marking centuries of generations,

making obscene amounts of wealth.

And there were times such as now,

when evening clouds harvest the shadows

from the ground,

and blood runs in red rivulets

between the well laid stones.

You wouldn’t know this to look at it.

The lamps provide solace and comfort

from the gloom,

but when the fiends accost you

their faces are no longer hidden,

and your life is no longer yours.

Over the years they planted the lilacs

so the coppery scent of life

was as masked as the fiends that crave it.

Screams were seldom heard,

and just as suddenly silenced.

Pleas to be spared went unheeded

and echoed through the streets that trapped

prey with its charm, then gave it over

to things best left in gloom and darkness,

not soft lights and pretty scents.

Leave now before the evening stars appear,

before you slowly dissipate into the

unclean afterlife that snares you with its perfume,

and leaves you to rot.

Purgatory’s Gates

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101, Dark Poetry

Wait here, child.

The blood on your hands is unclean.

The shadow on your soul is darkening.

The cold of your heart is consuming.

You have asked forgiveness,

pleaded for mercy,

begged for new life.

The deities are undecided.

They meet in council, even now,

to discuss and barter for your soul,

shadow-soaked as it is.

They have no power to cleanse it,

but want it for their own purposes.

Are you ready to surrender it

without conditions or demands?

If they burn it, will you be

satisfied.

If they use it for their own petty ends,

will you be at

peace?

The ravens come to guide you,

and the bell sounds,

muffled by the mist

as the gates open to

embrace you in clouds,

or receive you in clouds of flames.

Are you ready?

Reading Tomes by Candlelight

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101

Researching tomes by candlelight,

the old library smells

of tea and flowers, parchments,

and Indian ink wells.

Along here with the candlelight,

a fire crackles low,

and in the shadows of the shelves

dark laughter echoes so.

The dark and dusty shelves are full

of dark and dusty lore,

and spells to summon love sublime

or terror at its core.

The hairs and hackles of my hide

now stiffen in the air.

Of malevolent presences

I’m suddenly aware.

“What is it that you want?” I called,

but only silence came

in answer to my query

and the quelling of the flame.

Now sitting in the utter darkness

terror binds me still,

and all the will within me

chooses ‘cower’ over ‘kill.’

I know not when these things will slay,

they play with me the while,

and snarl and snap the air nearby

with fanged and feral smile.

They close the distance daily,

incrementally it seems,

So reading tomes by candlelight

yields nightmares and mad dreams.

I’ll leave the book and note for them

to find here in the day.

I don’t know if my corpse will be

devoured or on display.

Explore the tomes at your own risk,

perhaps your luck will hold.

Just know capricious spirits

have no use for human gold.

And maybe friend, just maybe,

they will bind you to the fold.

Do You Not Hear the Bells?

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101

Do you not hear the bells, my daughter,

tolling in the hills?

That is Death’s herald, daughter.

Feel how the night wind chills!

Do you not mark the sweet knells, daughter,

carried by the wind?

Death rides his gory horse to us,

your contract to rescind.

I stand above the place you lay. My tears will see me drowned,

for you have sold your soul to be once more above the ground.

And even now the vermin flee your coffin in surprise,

the earth beneath me churns and breaks and bubbles at your rise.

Now flesh and sinew cover bones once yellowed, moldy, black,

Your lovely hand breaks free and now there is no turning back.

And Death now swings his spectral scythe, and I must take your place,

but not before you kiss me once more on my ancient face.

The lack of rotting carrion no longer scents your sighs.

And Death himself has fallen for the beauty in your eyes.

The bells now tell of Death’s new bride. Be happy, and be well!

Now let my warming soul descend, your substitute in hell.

The Echoes of Ruins

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101, Uncategorized

Inside the old ruins

with vermin filled walls,

their boisterous voices still

ring through the halls.

 

How dazzling the jewelry,

the elegant gowns,

the best of the people from

best of the towns.

 

The thrill of the invite,

the calling by name

of every arrival

with fortune or fame.

 

The dark spirit no one saw

enter the space

was spreading his presence

all over the place.

 

The party grew louder,

and lewder, and crude.

The nobles were commoners,

servants were rude.

 

The atmosphere shifted

from festive to hate.

The dark spirit, watching,

decided to wait.

 

The sounds of the bacchanal

split the night air.

The dark spirit giggled

and fired a flare.

 

His cohorts arrived

and the violence began,

the fights and the sex

and the red sins of man.

 

The fires raged free

and the screaming was shrill,

the stones rained like hail

over castle and hill.

 

The dark, evil spirit’s

residing there still.

Don’t stop there. Don’t go there.

Your soul he will kill.

 

Fortune Untold

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101, Uncategorized

A glowing candle in the dark,

an old man sits alone.

Across the dusty table,

there sits an older crone.

 

“I’ll tell ye of yer fate,” says she,

her eyes aglow and wide.

“I’d like to know if good or bad.”

He sat his chair astride.

 

She closed her eyes and muttered

at a fast and fevered pitch.

He didn’t see

the demon woman form

behind the witch.

 

She smiled with a dripping grin,

and stared with hungry eyes

so longingly, she’d come to cause

his dimming soul’s demise.

 

She pinned his body to the chair

and feasted on his heart.

“Your fate is bad,” the old witch said.

“And that completes your chart.”

 

She laughed as she got up to leave.

“Enjoy your meal, my dear.”

“Well, why stop now?” the demon said.

“The two of you are here.”

The Souls of Her Lovers

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101, Uncategorized

I follow this girl in the hopes of

something uncertain,

even as

the sea wind tugs at me like

a small child with entreating, urgent

hands.

 

There are threats within the deep

to snatch me from the air,

and so I must be wary.

 

These orbs,

bright and small and pink,

have voyaged here from

watery graves

to surround her with

the fervid attention

she drew from them

in life.

 

When she tires

of their

flickering affection,

she will feed them to me.

 

Then I will feast,

and dream

of being a man

worthy of

her love.

 

For now,

we dance

together

on the storm-churned

surf,

as the

souls of her lovers

circle us

to the music

of the wind.

 

Unkindness

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101, Uncategorized

All we have done

is that which

you

have shown us.

 

Here, in this cage,

in view of the sun and sky,

the wind puffs at my wings,

teasing like a

mischievous imp.

 

I cannot sing.

I will not cry.

And I will

not stop

pulling at these

chains.

 

And yet,

when I dream of

flying

with my brothers,

and finding a mate,

and hunting

on the high winds

of a glorious summer

 

Together,

you call us unkind.

All we have done

is that which you’ve

shown us.

Undead Reborn

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101, Uncategorized

 

Seeking succor from her dreams,

hear the restless vampire screams.

Dreams of stakes and silver knives.

Hunters harvest undead lives.

Tears of red in eyes of gold,

warm red blood and pale flesh cold,

turn to embers, ashes, dust.

Desperate hands through packed earth thrust.

Too late now, the gurgling sighs

sing the dirge as evil dies.

Now the victory light of sun

shines upon the chosen one.

But somewhere across the sea,

fledgling fanged ones now roam free…

Distant Fires

by smithaw50, posted in Blogging 101, Uncategorized

I’ve waited, but not so very long.

The human life is lace before the cosmos.

You thought to elude me?

You locked the door?

I was amused to let you think you actually

accomplished something,

pleased to let you think

you got away.

You merely stoked my anger.

I simply lengthened

my patience,

even as I stoked the fire of

my wrath.

They speak of the foundations of the soul.

I will turn yours to rubble,

shatter you until

pebbles of bone fleck the marrow.

Your destruction will edify me.

And the fire you see in the distant sky

is yours,

and yours

alone.

Welcome home,

damnation’s

bastard

child.