The moon in his eyes……

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
Almost
Whilst up there on the moors….

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Adueni ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

May 2016

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Whispers of Scarlet Kisses

Vampiric Haiku

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

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When years matter not
And seasons slip by unseen
Then my love I live

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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

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The purest of gifts
Is offered, so drink my love
Two souls bound as one

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On the plane of life
I exist in mortal form
Yearning still for Light

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In dying embers
Whispers of scarlet kisses
Bleed upon the land

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When shadows of time
Creep through the fields of your mind
You will know my kiss

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Weaving webs of night
My dream becomes your nightmare
Night and day as one

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Freedom i will give
Truths i shall gladly teach thee
Nothing though comes free…

September 2016
“The Keeper of Scrolls”

Not Remembering…

My heart screams
Takes flight
I turn around somehow not quite missing the beat.
I run and run through the forest of my forgotten dreams
Only I have forgotten.
Forgotten you
And how you tasted
How you looked
And how you felt.
The trees here are tall and dark and barren
Yet they live like my heart
Fed on remorse and regret.
How many life times ago was it that I loved you?
How many hearts have beaten and ceased since those days?
How many mortals have lived and died in this realm with out actually living?
I am still running
Just ahead of times tick, tick, ticking.
Running always
For fear of standing still and remembering.
Constantly running in and out of ink-black shadows
Never stopping.
Running in forests where the screeches of startled ravens dissipate upon the winds.
Skin torn
Skin shed
Pain desired
Remembering.
Remembering I loved you
And the taste of ruby kisses so sweet and seductive.
Drip-fed by time’s unceasing march
I dissolve into the pools of my own sadness.
Keep running
Keep hiding
Seek shadows.
Slide into the oblivion of the unknowing
Where ravens cries are the only sounds that leave my lips
And the black blood of night
Is the only truth.
What is known can be unknown
Memories can be reversed
Just like time.
Go back
Back
Way beyond knowing
Way beyond unknowing
To a time of just being
To a time when the earth stood still
And all there was, was the Word
The truth
The all
The Love
The Blood
And You

 2016

Always of the blood…

The Kiss….

Cursed by a kiss
From centuries gone.
Touched by the hand of love alone.
Holding the rose
So red and so soft,
Clutching at life so wantonly lost.
So fragile the rose
In the hands of the doomed.

So swift the kiss
Smearing the lips.
Fleeting the words
From the bloodstained tongue.

Adrenalin rush
Humanity shattered
I gave
You took
That’s all that matters.

 

Fall back

August 2011

“Whats love got to do with it?”