Pale mistress

Konica12523

 

Awake in velvet.

Blackness framed her nails.

 

Then I fought desire
but
(captured by those eyes)
lost force.

 

Resistance gone
she drew me down
toward both hungry lips
and sharp
white

teeth.

 

“Dear Lord, preserve my soul…”

I grasped at words
which fled away.

They drifted
through dead air
like falling snow.

 

Too late for escape

I noticed sounds

as if small
flapping wings
evaded sight.

Or strange
melodies were
(somehow)
produced

by tiny hands

on glinting stabs
across piano
keyboards.

 

While feeling
coldness
stretching
wide as night

over
distant trees.

 

(O life: where is thy warmth?)

 

 

 

Beside me, now
she lay
content.

Yet said

“Past victims haunt our rest.
Old wounds pollute
the psyche with
dread
mortality.”

 

 

I trembled:

Sensing

that voice

rise.

 

 

From a
void

 

 

which had

 

no

end.

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

(Above is a revised version of poem written at the age of 21.

As a lonely young man I secretly longed to meet a seductress.
Of course, I didn’t really want her to be undead or soulless.
(Though, many people I met in daily life showed little sign of having a soul, either.)

Anyway, I was always attracted by goth looking females.
So went a bit “full vampire” with this. πŸ§›πŸ»β€β™€οΈ)

 

My post-flu depression has eased, yet left me still unable to write poetry, at present.

 

Art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it? πŸ™

 

Comments are always VERY welcome! πŸ™‚

 

Has anyone else spent more time on WordPress than usual, recently?

(I’ve found many interesting new artists, poets, writers, and photographers to follow.)

 

Thank you
for reading.

 


( art / beauty / blog /depression / drawing / fiction / goth / love / mental health / poem / poems / poetry /Β  romance / writing )

43 thoughts on “Pale mistress”

        1. Thank you!
          Coming from a poor background, and self-taught, the art world always seemed closed to me.
          No-one is interested in my work in the city where I live.
          E-mails to others, are usuallly ignored.
          So, not wanting to die unknown, I started this blog.

          Like

          1. My dear friend, this is always the case. Nobody wanted to know Van Gogh while he was alive.
            And even today, artists like Banksy – nobody knows who he is – and he is still very much alive.
            One must believe in oneself Ken. Dead or alive, you will be great then Ken. The annoying thing is that most of our art will not make us rich, but what a wonderful lasting legacy to leave behind Ken. Your work may still be around in a thousand years in one form or another. People of the future will look on the internet and admire your work Ken. Physically you will be long gone, but eternally forever inspiring those who come after.

            Liked by 1 person

  1. Though english is not my first language – I have a feeling of a beautiful poetry here. I do not know much about the goths – saw couple of them on the streets looooong ago.
    About the content – I am not sure yet could it be that the warmth (that I also mainly miss from the other humans) is still to partually be found in GENERATING it by oneself AND turning deep personal attention to the nature? In concrete to each separate flower (not EACH but the ones that attract you), birds in single, single trees that “talk to you” in particular?… That helps me somewhat.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Love the art man, but the poem catches my attention. I love the alignment and I love how you keep the words from running into each other and it just enhances the overall feeling of this wonderful poetry. Glad to have come across your blog. Peace and greetings from Sui generis πŸ’›
    Yours,
    Shanyu

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Shanyu!
      Yes: I try laying the poems out to indicate how they sound in my mind.
      (Hoping it might pace the reader’s eye, a little.)
      Great to hear from you.😊

      Like

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