NosferatuA Poem by The LarkYeah, I was reading Anne Rice...shut up!
Can any sort of wicked evil Lurk beneath this beauty's mask? An oddly sensuous sort of demon, Newly risen from its cask.
Such liquid grace in flowing movement, Nature bound for finer things, With dextrous fingers surely fondling Organs, harps and violins.
The seething, soothing, seeming swooning, Boldly gestured creature bows, And takes me thus with spritely hands To moon-dance in the moonlit hours.
O' merriment! The midnight calling, Lost in preternatural eyes, This lonesome, loathsome, artful devil Whom I lovingly despise.
I beckon; drink in lustful darkness, Surely something lies amiss, When ghouls of desperate, untold horror Have the most alluring kiss.
In you I find a love eternal, Altered not, though I be killed, Now leave me for the bells of morning, Empty, dead, yet so fulfilled. © 2010 The LarkReviews
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1 Review Added on February 15, 2008 Last Updated on April 21, 2010 AuthorThe LarkMelbourne, AustraliaAboutI guess I'm something of an old-school poet. I always write with fixed meter and rhyme, and for the most part that's what I enjoying reading too. "I'd as soon write free verse as play tennis with th.. more..Writing
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