Category: Dark Tellings

Inspired by an ancient waymarker in a silent churchyard way up on Exmoor; a land that has so many tales to tell, if only it could…..

A solitary waymarker stands tall, marking the boundary of the graveyard; a tick upon the land. No blood, no sign of any struggle, not now.

A girl long ago cruelly hunted down and burned, leaving no trace; just ashes, dust scattered to the winds on that wild and desolate moor, where these days only the wind howls to the moon.

Not for the likes of her sweet and loving soul, the serenity of a consecrated graveyard. Not for the likes of her the dignity of remembrance. Not for the likes of her an epitaph carved lovingly in stone; only the winds and rain to wash away all traces.

All she did was to fall in love, to surrender her heart and soul to the one who loved her back.  All she did was fall in love wildly with a passion of her being way beyond her years. All she did was fall in love with a dark and wild immortal with the wind in his hair and the moon in his eyes. All she did was to allow him to love her back.

All she did was to kiss him on that wet and stormy night in that dark, desolate graveyard way up there upon the moors. It was all she did, one kiss, one passionate and rain-soaked kiss.  It was all she did, she fell in love with the immortal with the wind in his hair.

Some nights when wandering up there on the wild moors, one can almost catch the movement of shadows out of the corner of one’s eyes. One can almost hear the rustling of wet leaves and the sound of damp footsteps running frantically through the graveyard.

One can almost imagine in the darkness, the waymarker with the sturdy gorse bush still growing at its foot after all these years, on an otherwise dry patch of lifeless earth where nothing else will ever grow. And if one was to imagine sinking down upon one’s hands and knees under the waymarker, one can almost see the rivulets of blood running forth onto wet saturated garments in the rain; up there on the moors.

And some nights when the moon is round and the air is dry it is not hard to imaging a lonely cloaked figure under the waymarker scraping away at the parched black earth where nothing lives. One could almost imagine a figure with the wind in his hair, uncovering an old and crumbling piece of wood tossed away in haste by those who feared a vengeful god and who had time and guilt on their hands; a simple weapon that had long ago pierced his lover’s trusting heart.

One could almost imagine
Whilst up there on the moors….

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Exmore 1

Adueni ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

May 2016

Very happy to be posting my last week of offerings in respect of NaPoWriMo 2017; it has been a pleasure sharing and of course an even greater pleasure reading all the very inspirational poems from my fellow poets. It has been a great event once again 🙂


April 24th

Secrets lost in time
Standing steadfast on the shores
Hidden in plain sight

No name on this cross
History and truth erased
Knowledge in silence…


April 25th

Tales written in stone
Stories inscribed within trees
Encoded in time


April 26th

Dancing in the green of the land

And revelling in the seduction of one’s senses

As the fecundity of being becomes an intimacy

Transcending physical space

Relishing life’s purpose laid bare

Upon the tracing board of time

Knowing our geometry was duly mapped by

A greater architect

Accepting what is

Allowing the weave of design and destiny

To track its eager fingers upon our hearts

Over every contour of its pre-planned route

Let life come as a secret lover upon the stairs

Allow each creak and hesitation

To heighten all senses

Dance in the delight of the becoming

Tread not lightly when the flowing sands of time

Shatter into a myriad of broken shards

Reflecting perceptions of identity

That sparkle in the dawn

Dance in life’s ecstasy with all of your being

And care not when the clock strikes midnight

For in the intimacy of your becoming

You will at last let go


April 27th

By the great sun’s wheel

We are mapped from birth to death

Yet what lies beyond?

April 28th

Colour’s spectrum reigns

Under the great rainbow arch

Love and Light are we


April 29th

Inspired by a waymarker in a churchyard upon Exmoor; a place that has so many tales to tell…

A solitary waymarker stands tall upon the ground
A tick upon the land.
No blood
No sign of any struggle
Not now.
A body long ago hunted down and burned
Ashes scattered to the winds
On a wild and desolate moor.
Not for the likes of her
The serenity of a consecrated graveyard.
Not for the likes of her
The dignity of remembrance.
Not for the likes of her
A beautiful epitaph carved in stone.
All she did was fall in love.
Surrender her heart and soul
To one who loved her back.
All she did was fall in love.
To love wildly with all her heart.
All she did was fall in love
With the passion of all her being.
All she did was fall in love
With an immortal.
All she did was
Allow him to love her back
And kiss him on that dark and stormy night
In that desolate graveyard
Way up there upon the moors.
All she did was allow the boundaries of her humanity
To stretch henceforth into eternity.
It was all she did
She fell in love…..

Some nights when wandering up there on the moors
One can almost catch the movement of shadows
Out of the corner of one’s eyes.
One can almost imagine in the darkness
The waymarker with the sturdy gorse bush still growing at its foot
On the otherwise patch of dry lifeless earth
Where nothing else will grow.
And if one was to imagine
Sinking down upon one’s hands and knees
Under the waymarker
Up there on the moors.
And imaging scraping away at the parched black earth where nothing lives.
One could almost imagine
Uncovering an old and crumbling piece of wood
Tossed away in haste
A trusting heart pierced.
One could almost imagine
Whilst up there on the moors….


April 30th

Limelight’s tricks and twists

A demon in jester’s robes

Life takes a dark bow…


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NapPoWriMo 2017

“The Keeper of Scrolls”

Ego Derived…..

From the Allographic workshop in Cambridge these words resonated in my mind from the word ‘Ego’:

Power… Fear… Uptight… Chains… Boundaries… Delusion… Lies… Humanity… Crushed… Fruitless… Commanding… Deadly… Visionless..

And from those words a poem birthed

Hidden within humanity

Are the boundaries of delusion.

Held strong by misplaced power

Fed by fruitless fear and lies.

In a visionless future world

Hides the deadly chains,

The lock and key lost in time.

Yet time itself already crushed

Within its own delusion of lies.

A fruitless circle of becoming

As the Serpent is fed


February 2017 Allographic Workshop: Cambridge

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’

Endlessly i fall

Caught in a chasm of wonder

Spiraling onwards


The bones of my being find shelter & solace ‘neath the comforting shadow of my soul

Digital Camera

Sounds of tinkling pipes

Woven by the winds own charm

Weave around my soul

Digital Camera

Silently i tread the years of earthly time; my one companion, my warrior soul…

Digital Camera

With breastplate and sword

I stand steadfast and mighty

In silence i rule

Digital Camera

Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time cease to be & all there is is the truth….


My name is silence

Only whispered by the wind

When the sky is dark

Digital Camera

Suspended timelessly in a space of my own creation; i weave reality with the electrons of my mind…..


All secrets revealed, all knowledge known.

At the end of days i shall become into being

And She will rise within


And so it goes on

Bood spilled, innocents ravaged

Man’s death on the cards….


The time is now here

For man to be accounted

Too late for good deeds…


Save your soul, lest you weep and pray for no more tears.

Tis over, all done…


Beach huts hibernate
Dreaming of hot days and sand
Returning cycles


Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time ceases to be & all there is is the truth….
The land will endure over centuries of upheavel, always renewing itself at perfect points giving humanity life once more…


Words from the ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

‘Truth is is darkness suspended ina time that does not exsist’

January 2017

(All photos and words are original and belong to the author)

Deck the Halls

My anti-consumerism poem which is just right for this time of year


Dripping souls festoon each bough

And rafters gleam with blood and slime.

The vast halls echo with dreams unsung

And stories never told.

Tis the time of peace on earth

Tho dust and dark descend.

No sun, no star, no guiding light,

No babe, no hope, no joy.

The gates of doom will yet unfurl

As night and day collide.

Dark ones wrapped in cloaks of light

Fly swift between the worlds.

They reap the souls from mortal men.

To bring them home to Him.

He sprawls upon his jewelled throne,

To await his gifts galore;

Encrusted with be-jewelled hearts

And entwined with weeping souls.

Upon this throne He proudly waits

As his bloody booty does come home.

He’ll raise his glass to one and all

And wish you merry cheer

Then down your blood in one fell swoop

And devour another soul.

Its party night in Underworld

The invites are on their way.

Come swathed in black,

Come drip with fear,

Please come and dine with Him.

But leave your soul hung by the door

As there’s much fun to explore.

You gaze around the bedecked halls

At souls so brightly hung.

Purged of bodies now disposed,

It could be you, it may be you.

You sing the tuneless song.

The song of man, the song of peace,

The song of joy on earth.

The song of death, the song of war,

Ah now – the fiddler knows the tune!

You dance with glee,

You dance with joy,

The piper joins the throng.

Round and round and in and out,

Night to day and right to wrong

Tis the season to be jolly,

You weave the merry song.

The song of man, the song of peace,

The song of joy on earth.

So deck the hall with dripping souls

“Trala lala la lala la la!”




Written Yule 2007

“The Keeper of Scrolls”

Dec 2016






It wasn’t the shadows in the woods that haunted me most

It was the ones in your eyes

It wasn’t the wind screeching through the bare boughs that bought me deathly chills

It was your terrified scream

It wasn’t the track through the forest frantically leading nowhere

It was your footsteps running… running…

It wasn’t the lake still and beautiful on that moonless night

It was your body; still beautiful in the water

It wasn’t the single red bloom that fluttered silently out of nowhere to rest upon your breast

It was the single drop of red blood

It wasn’t my hands loving and tender

It was the white of my knuckles grasping the bloodied knife…



November 2016

Photography – me

Keeper of Scrolls

A Friday night eve

An abandoned airfield

Silence and stillness

Mysterious lights



Lost souls

Coincidental figures

Speak of the way



Hedges and fences

Living quarters



Hot and cold

A figure


Spirits roam

Lost airmans souls

Seeking home



Dark doorways

Graffitied walls

Stairway shadows


Memories of the past

Entwined in the present

Never forgotton

Psychic graffiti


Whispering steps

Never alone

Senses alive

A kerbside encounter

Spirit tracks

Eternity lingers into darkness

Lost souls


Through the veil

We will see

All that we are meant to see….

Through the veil

We will see

That of which is meant to be….

Through the veil

We will see

Into the deep, dark sea eternally….



Oct 2016

(A Gothic inspired poem in the style of Poe’s ‘The Raven’)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Upon a lost love gone for years; upon a life lost too;

I search in vain for evermore.

Why so young an Angel taken?

Why so young a life forsaken?

Suddenly snatched from mortal realm

With ne’er a chance to say goodbye

With ne’er a chance to wipe my tear

That fell upon my cheek so soft

And so I pondered long and lonely, feeling weary seeking solace

To quest his long lost resting place; I quest for evermore.

A place I knew ere in my dreams,

For never in my waking hours his sad tomb could I see.

That churchyard old and dark I saw;

In daytime nothing stirred at all.

Why in my dreams and not on earth

I pleaded every night whilst there.

In dreams of night his name I call

Through deaths dark door he whispers mine.

I wander long, alone and teary, vainly searching, vainly seeking

For that which I am so unsure;

I search for evermore.

A tomb maybe, a gravestone marked; a spot upon some barren ground?

In death and dreams he calls me home

My name he calls upon the winds;

In waking hours my torment thrives, fed on my wretched life.

My dreams are that which take my soul

To black tormented realms of pleasure.

Oh death, oh lover why taunt me so?

I beg you leave my dreams alone

Yet take me home with thee.

For in this world I cannot live

Yet can not die in yours.

Sweet freedom free me from this curse

Of searching lost and lonely

For a love lost in the realms of men.

In my dreams his tomb I find

In churchyard dark and dank and dreary.

And so upon a midnight weary I wander in that graveyard dreary

In deaths dark realm for evermore…..



Poem and Photo Adueni 2016

Dark Moon Rising

There’s a dark moon on the rise tonight,

Sweet fear scents the air.

In blackest skies, from other worlds

A shadow casts its cloak.

A tale once played in ancient times

On this day will be told.

A Harvest sown so long ago

Stands ripened in the Sun.

What was sown will now be reaped,

‘Tis the blood of every Lamb.

There’s blood and fear upon our lips

And dread in every soul.

We feed the Ones who take and break

Our Oaths put to the test.

Our souls they steal within no bounds

To spill our Dark Blood on the ground.

Silently in darkest night

In masks known just to them,

Their rightful prize, their precious gold

Will not escape again.

As Dark descends and chaos reigns

The writings yet unfold.

We fall before the ones who map

The fate of every man.

Seize the fear and taste the Blood.

Be counted good and true.

Stay or go – tis up to you;

It is the final test.

As curtains fall upon this world

The tale is finally told.

But those who rid their earthly ties

Will see the Light shine through.

In deepest, darkest, deathly night

We start our life anew.






 Vampiric Haiku

 “Let not the light of day betray the real love that rules the world”


When years matter not

And seasons slip by unseen

Then my love I live



To find another

Of bloodline true and race pure

Tis an old one’s dream

On these shores I dream

Of days gone by and feasts past

And living embraced



The purest of gifts

Is offered, so drink my love

Two souls bound as one



On the plane of life

I exist in mortal form

Yearning still for Light



In dying embers

Whispers of scarlet kisses

Bleed upon the land




When no shadows cast

And night and day become one

Wait and I shall come


When shadows of time

Creep through the fields of your mind

You will know my kiss


Weaving webs of night

My dream becomes your nightmare

Night and day as one


Freedom i will give

Truths i shall gladly teach thee

Nothing though comes free…


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