Naked Time

watching clock time
hands on face
numbers roll


visceral slowing
candle flame lit
a vampire in the ether

smoother now

belly pushes hands
worries disintegrate
with the vampire’s
bad intentions
into naked time…


Simply Horror

In a pool
a blood soaked moon
wolves feast

Wolf searches
in moonlight
bats chatter

Sleepy village
cock crows

Muzzles buried
in rosy depths
a bird dreams

Wool caught
on brambles
wolves sleep bloodied

Red goo steams
on dark green grass
moon not yet full

Grey lights
glint owlishly
mouse tail remains

In the gloaming mist
fingers snaking through velvet
a nightjar screeching

Garden’s secret shadows
beneath the new moon
something slouches this way

new moon rises
bats scream at the void

Vampira’s Ball

Twilight is falling, Vampira stirs in her carmine silk
coffin, nostrils flare  scenting of attar of roses, she
stretches luxuriously stepping gracefully into the room.
She floats to the French windows throwing them open,
she bows very deeply to salute the rising moon.
Outside snowflakes dance in the crisp cold night air.

In the garden, the cawing of night jars rends the air
while the lawns glimmer from snow like shot silk
and filigree hazelnut hedges are kissed by the moon.
Her chivalrous paramour was returning tonight, she
waited joyously, her heart and the windows were open,
tonight there would be a masquerade ball in that very room.

Kasimir, singing the nightingale’s song swept into the room,
held Vampira tight in his arms, sucked in her scent on the air
arousing tender flames of desire, his heart was wide open.
Her gown was ethereal with stars sewn on midnight blue silk.
The chamber was almost ready, except for the chandeliers she
adored; a candlelight  counterpoint to the beams of the moon.

The howls of wolves was carried on the wind while the moon
found gaps in the silver clouds. The butler came into the room
to announce that the hour had come for the masquerade. She
hastened to hall to greet all the creatures who loved night air.
The first to arrive were werewolves dressed in their finest silk
shirts. Vampira’s  masquerade ball was now officially open.

Next were the Fae, who flew in the French windows still open;
fallen angels came in, floating ‘tween clouds framing the moon,
they greeted Vampira, their wise eyes shimmering like moire silk,
then came hundreds of pairs. doomed lovers who almost filled the room,
in a limbo of insatiable  passion, their musk sucked up the air.
Looking at Kasimir, Vampira recalled how they stood at that brink, she

recoiled, thankful they seen each other instead. She
laughed gaily as Kashimir bowed and took her hand to open
the dance of night creatures whose chatter now filled the air.
Unnoticed they slipped out to hunt game under the moon
while the lovers cavorted in exhausted ecstasy in the room
so richly furnished with brocade, moire and thin tissue silk.

Kasimir took her hand, she looked at the setting moon.
The doors were still open,  they stepped back to the room.
A soft wind, cleansing air, gently rustled the silk.

For Poetry Potluck – Jingle Poetry – Signs, Languages and Symbols

Dancing with Amoz39

@Amoz39 and I did some unpremeditated  improvising the other night with Vampira  – a somewhat melancholy dreamy vampire. Vampira can be dark and dangerous but has a very quirky side as well, a leftover from her human days.

Here are our tweets in haiku and gogyohka form (@Amoz39 is in blue, I am in dark red):

Vampira resting
a spring pool reflects the moon
but not her

Eerie music background
Vampira’s clothes
fell to the ground
as she steps
into a dark pool

Water warm and fresh
lapped at her marble smooth skin
Vampira smiled

Vampira sees me
luminous bottomless eyes
help me, I am lost


Vampira sees
a delicious strong man
she smiles with glee

Happy I am saved
Vampira goes for lean meats
I am full of fat