PF's Poetry

[Predator-Fan]

Poems on the Wall

In the old abandoned city hall
Where there were many majestic balls.
Though it is somthing that is not seen,
It is something like its history.
Here and there it is unseen on its walls
There are poems written there
Poems on the wall.

These poems have seen the sights
And have seen what others do not see.
All of it is written here,
These poems on the wall.

The poems wish to tell all,
But remain to be unseen
Lies, fibs, stories and truth
They are all written
As poems on the wall.

In silent little voices,
The wind and gentle moans of the beams
Like to recite the poems
The poems on the wall.

Each day something new is written
Each day something new is said.
Yet here the poems stay
These poems on the wall.

Do not think I am crazy
I tell you, I am no fool.
History writes itself unseen to us
As poems on the wall.

[piñata]

That's good. Is it inspired by a particular city hall? The one in my city is old enough to have a lot of poems on its walls.

[Predator-Fan]

No......I was sitting in a collage and I thought it would be pretty cool to write about a place with loads of history in a run down place.

[piñata]

Ain't it weird (but in a cool way) where our inspiration as writers comes from sometimes? I'm currently writing a full-length novel inspired by the lyrics of Evanescence (it's a horror novel... if I had to describe it, I'd say "Stephen King goes on an acid trip").

[Predator-Fan]

LOL

[Predator-Fan]

I actually redid the Dracula's silver kiss, made it a little more detailed and several others will be put up shortly.

[Predator-Fan]

Dracula’s Silver Kiss

Prologue
Have you ever seen the film,
Van Helsing?
The film with Count Dracula?
Well many, many years after Van Helsing
Killed Dracula’s three beautiful brides
Is how my story begins...

My Story
There’s the sound of wings again,
I heard them every night.
My parents said it was just bats,
But then why did the sound always scare me?
Why did it give me such a fright?

The sound I heard on those nights
Sounded too large to be just one bat;
Bats fly very fast.
The steady rhythmic sound came
From a solitary creature in flight.

Each night the creature came closer,
Whatever the creature was.
I never saw what made the noise
For the clouds covered the moon those nights
And concealed the creature in flight.

But then, on that fateful night,
No clouds hid the moon
Which allowed the bright, pale orb to
Shine in the sky.
Its light allowed me to see
The creature in flight,
The creature of the night,
And that was the night I died.

The creature that was flying
Made my blood run cold.
Half-man, half-beast
The legendary vampire
Who starred in so many horrors of the
Dying,
Looked neither young nor old.
As he flew closer towards my window,
I stared in awe and fear.
I thought to myself as I
Stared out into the gloom,
If he is real, what have I done
To make this monster come here?

I forced my heart to regain its normal beat
As I walked cautiously to my window.
I didn’t see the creature
But I did see
A dangerous looking man getting to his feet.
The moonlight shone on his
Long, raven hair
Making it seem to glow.

I scowled in quiet annoyance
As I swiftly locked the window.
He smirked as if my actions amused him,
His dark eyes seemed to glow.

I stepped back from that threshold
Certain he would leave.
But that was like wishing on the past
To return to come and save me.

But he walked confidently towards my window
Undeterred by my attempts to stop him.
He somehow unlocked
What I had just locked
In my feeble attempt to save me.
A frightened gasp
Escaped past my lips
As he unceremoniously walked in.

I had stumbled backwards in my haste
To somehow get away.
My eyes sparkled in fear
As they danced around
Looking for something to keep the creature
At bay.

A deep and throaty chuckle
Had rumbled deep within his chest;
His dark brown eyes seemed to dance.
He confidently followed me
As I quickly retreated backwards,
Smiling, as if my terror
Amused him the best.

When I could move backwards anymore
And my back was pressed against the wall,
I listened is silent horror
As I heard the lock turn on itself
Slowly locking my door.

My heart began to sprint again
When he began to speak,
But for some strange reason
The sound of his voice
Had somehow made me weak.

He had me pinned against the wall,
“Good evening,” he had crooned.
“My name is Count Vladious Dragulia,
And my dear, Seleena,
I have been looking for you.”

I stared at him in mute horror,
My God! how did he know my name?
He had said it with reverence, with honor
But his voice had inspired fear just the same.

The dark brown eyes had bored
Into my sapphire blue.
I had trembled as he repeated
“I have been searching for you.”

Fear blazed in my eyes
As I began to shake.
But then I began to realize
Fear was not what had made me tremble
But disgust and hate
Was what made me shake
Because of what that creature was.

Dracula had continued to smile
Reading the fury, fear and hate
That was written on my face.
Then I had done something
That made his smile disappear.
I had smiled right back.

But my smile had no amusement,
It had been full of contempt.
A deep, throaty growl rumbled
Deep within his chest
Which made my smile vanish, evaporate;
That growl had sent my heart flying
And I began to mumble.

“Why are you here?”
I had whispered softly.
“Why did you choose me
And why now after being alone
For so many years?”

I had lowered my gaze
As I whispered out my questions.
He didn’t answer me
But had laughed quietly under his breath.

He had gently raised my face,
So he could reach my gaze
And when I had returned his gaze
I had seen a resolution written on his face
And that resolution had made me gasp.

His lips had found mine before I could protest
And I had begun to push away,
Pushing against his chest.
My heart had begun to pound once more
And in my attempt to escape
I had committed my fatal mistake;
As I had twisted to get away,
The moonlight had shone
On the pale skin of my neck.

As soon as he had seen my neck,
Pale within the moonlight,
He had pulled away from me,
Breaking away from his kiss
For just a moment or two,
He finally exposed his fangs
And preformed his Silver Kiss.

A gasp of pain
Had escaped my lips
As I felt his fangs pierce my skin.
I could not move;
I could not speak;
I had felt my fragile life leave me.

I had slowly fallen into him,
As he completed his Silver Kiss.
I did not move for a moment or two,
But as I slowly got back on my feet
He had murmured,
“You belong to me.”

Epilogue
Remember what I said about Van Helsing?
And how all of Dracula’s brides were dead?
He had preformed the Silver Kiss only once since then
And it was performed on me,
And I am now his only bride.

But that was many years ago,
Two hundred and forty years to be exact.
The Kiss was performed when I was eighteen
And I have never left Dracula since then.

You might think,
“Why don’t you just stake yourself?”
And I will tell you, I have tried.
But I am just like my Dracula;
Because that which is immortal,
And eternally damned,
Cannot die.

But do not be afraid at night
When you hear the sound of wings.
If you see a silver vampire flying
You will know it’s me.

I am going to tell you something,
Please, dear mortal, pay attention to this;
If you see a black and silver vampire fly by
We will not stop and perform
The cursed Silver Kiss.

[Predator-Fan]

The Mirror

Once upon a midnight dreary, I flipped through a teen magazine weary,
Fashion tips, dating tips, and diet tricks-things I’ve done and tried before,
While I was reading, my thoughts flying, suddenly there came a sighing,
As of some girl softly sighing, sighing right by my bedroom mirror.
‘It’s just some friend,” I murmured, ‘sighing beside my bedroom mirror-
Only this, and nothing more.”\’

It was just another long, humid night that summer,
And the shadows from the night-side lamp danced upon the mirror.
I closed my eyes and wished for the morn; - I wondered where this fear was born.
For the teen magazine brought forth my sorrow- sorrow of my non-perfect form -
For all the models within the pages would scorn my less-than-perfect-form –
Never perfect, for evermore.

I walked over to the full-length glass where shadows danced
It chilled me- filled me with doubts about myself I never held before;
So I stood there, trying to still the pounding of my self-conscious fears, I stood entranced
“It’s just a friend sighing and looking in my bedroom mirror-
One of my crazy friends sighing and looking in my bedroom mirror; -
That is it, and nothing more.”

There was no one there or there any longer; until I could not bear it no longer
I looked around and said, “Hey, if you’re still here, I didn’t mean to ignore;
But the thing is I was reading and my thoughts were flying, when you got to sighing
So softly you came sighing, sighing by my mirror,
That I didn’t think that you-” but the words stuck in my throat for
There was no one there, and nothing more.

I stood there confused, but I felt that someone else was peering
Leering into the glass by me, as if to see, but as I stated before
I standing there alone quietly, the shadows on the mirror danced lightly
I looked into the glass and saw three people within the mirror
Two other versions of me stared back from within the mirror
Only this and nothing more.

The first version of what appeared to be me, a model of great beauty
Slim, muscular and tan, wearing designer clothes, but now sighing louder than before.
The second version of me, a sad, defeated looking thing of a girl;
Clutching a magazine, her eyes of dismayed attempts of beauty implored-
To know why her attempts of beauty failed her- her large, sad blue eyes implored-
All the while I stood staring at these strange and mysterious signoras.

I touched the cold glass, wishing that hopefully, that this nightmare would pass,
But the images stared at me; one stare was cold as ice, the other stare cut me to the core.
No movements were made by either she; not a word was uttered by either she;
They just stood there and stared, stared at me from within the mirror-
Quietly standing within the cold glass of the mirror-
Standing and staring at me, and nothing more.

Then these images made my fear vanish and made me smirk,
By the polar opposites of the either girl, how they held themselves and what they wore,
‘Wow, though I have issues with how I want to look,’ snickered I, ‘from looking within this book.
The wishful way I want to be and the way I sometimes feel looking in a magazine then looking in the mirror-
But seriously, guys, this trick you’re playing is old and not funny anymore!’
But both girls turned and said, ‘Perfect nevermore!’

I stood in fear and horror to hear those two phantoms plainly,
I understood their comment and its meaning- and it scared me to the core;
The perfect yet heartless me and the less-beautiful, defeated me seemed to see
That I understood what they meant within their prison, the mirror-
The cold and awful truth being spoken from the mirror,
That I could never be perfect not now or evermore.

But the phantom girls, standing silently, quietly, spoke only,
Those two words, as if their sole mission in those two words they did outpour.
They said nothing more and just stared into space as if I wasn’t there
Till I muttered as softly as I dared ‘It’s just my imagination with this mirror-
I’ll close my eyes, they’ll be gone, and I’ll see only my image in this mirror.’
Then the perfect image sneered, ‘Perfect nevermore!’

Spooked by the cold and heartless sneer where the images seemed to leer,
‘Well,’ muttered I, ‘that’s the only words these phantoms seem to know,
Caught in its form of limbo, the mirror, it’s the prison of this perfect looking bimbo
Striking hard and striking harder still with it’s cruel and heartless lingo
Until it tires of mocking me with its meaningless lingo,
Of “perfect nevermore” until they plan to go.’

But the images were still staring, and I not caring
Sat on the floor in front of the accursed mirror;
I turned my eyes to the second me who stood there and seemed to be
Crying inwardly because the magazine lied when she looked in the mirror-
Her eyes screamed of fury and pain when she saw failed attempts when she looked in the mirror,
She looked at me and whispered, ‘Perfect nevermore.’


Shocked by what I was hearing from these two images who were still leering,
Whose pitiless and imploring stares scared me more than ever before;
The statement that they kept saying, I sat their silently praying,
On the cold floor where I sat hoping this was a story or some form of lore-
A horrible story that would leave a person shaking or a frightening piece of lore,
Where two phantoms would point out that one would never be perfect nevermore.

Then, I thought, the air grew colder, and there was unseen pressure on either one of my shoulders
As if someone was squeezing my shoulders to say I tried and perfection was something I could not restore.
‘Freak!’ my voice squeaked, ‘You take this joke to far- you scared me, all right? And now mentally scarred
So stop- please stop! with this joke with the mirror!
This awful and evil joke with my mirror!’
Both the phantoms purred out, ‘Perfect nevermore!’

‘Phantoms in the glass!’ shouted I, ‘images of me! –if true or not, or whatever you may be! –
If this is what I see, in imagination or what I see and don’t see when I look in the mirror,
Go away and leave me be, because I’ve seen what it can do to me to see what I shouldn’t see -
I know I can never be perfect but I can try to look decent in front of this mirror-
I can look decent and pleasing to the eye in front of any mirror!’
But both the images whispered out, ‘Perfect nevermore!’

‘Phantoms in the glass,’ shouted I, ‘images of me! –if true or not, or whatever you may be! –
I don’t care that you still remain but you fail to turn my fury to horror,’
I was finally proud of how I looked and I didn’t need any critiques from any book-
‘You will never change my opinion of how I feel when I look in this mirror,
I am pleased of what I see and you can’t change that whenever I look in any mirror!’
But quoth the phantoms, ‘Perfect nevermore!’

‘Fiends in that glass prison! That was your parting speech!’ I shrieked, rising-
‘Leave me and never return to the glass which is called my mirror!
Leave no sign that you were here because my sanity to me is quite dear!
Leave my mind and imagination! - Please this is all that I implore!
Take your message, and never return to my mirror! Please go, I implore!’
They slowly blurred and breathed: ‘Perfect nevermore!’

I remember nothing more; it seemed I passed out on my floor
But the images never returned and never bothered me anymore;
I never listened to the scorn of not having the perfect form,
And the light from my lamp at night still dances upon the glassy form of my mirror;
But the light no longer dances on the two strange images within my mirror,
Images that once breathed: ‘Perfect nevermore!’

[Predator-Fan]

Three Singing Friends

On a warm and sunny day
Three young wolves ventured from their dens.
One white,
One black,
The final one gray;
All so different yet
Somehow the same.

The youngest,
The white wolf,
Whose deep eyes sparkled blue;
Though she was the smallest
She actually was the fiercest.
Aluna she was called
High and sad were the soprano notes
Her powerful voice would sing.
Her song would echo for miles
And make nested birds take wing.

The largest one,
The black wolf,
Strider as he was known,
Sang his song
In deep, melancholic baritones.
He was the oldest of the three
Yet he found his age made it the best;
Because he was the tallest and the oldest,
He was protective and gentle
When he needed to be.

The final one,
The gray wolf,
Was not as old as Strider
But not as young as Aluna.
Silver Arrow sang her song
In gentle, echoing alto tones.
She was not larger than
The dark Strider
Nor was she smaller than
The blue-eyed Aluna
But her sparkling amber eyes told
A story
Of a gentle playful nature.

Aluna, Strider and Silver Arrow
Crept cautiously towards
One another.
A strange tingling and longing
Burned deep within their marrow
A hope,
A possibility,
That just maybe
They would become great friends
And join their voices
To create a single harmony.

Aluna,
The smallest and the fiercest,
Was the first to accept the other’s presence.
She folded herself gently onto the ground
And grinned;
Her sharp, white fangs flashing bright.
She kept her steady gaze upon the other two
And waited for their acceptance.

Silver Arrow,
The playful one,
Saw Aluna meant no harm.
So she moved towards
The smaller white wolf
And laid down by her side.
Then Silver Arrow also turned her gaze,
Joining Aluna’s unwavering gaze,
To the dark wolf who had not joined them.

Strider,
The protective and gentle one,
Met the other’s gaze with ease.
His dark eyes shone
As he gazed down upon
The two younger wolves before him.
He quietly stepped forward
And lightly laid upon the grass
Joining the two younger wolves
Whose eyes sparkled,
Obviously pleased.

Quietly at first,
But then growing stronger
Aluna, Silver Arrow, and Strider
Joined their together their voices
To easily create the song.
The deep baritone;
The gentle alto;
The high soprano
Formed a melody so pure
That this newly formed pack and it’s
Friendship
Seemed so sure.

But nothing lasts forever
And time changes everything.
Friendships that swore that the ties
Would never break
Or be forgotten
Faded from their minds like
The morning star.
Time would even alter
The very song they sing.

Several others joined the
Small pack
Formed by the original three
And the new arrivals of the pack
Would join their voices to the
Three friends’ song.
But then,
Two voices seemed to dominate
Over the original song;
This altered melody belonged
To the
Dark and patient Strider
And the playful Silver Arrow.

Strider and Silver Arrow’s song
Seemed to join and harmonize
Creating a solemn and haunting melody.
Their voices soon became
One before long
Making Aluna realize
Just how strong
Silver Arrow and Strider’s bond was
Within their melody.

Slowly, Aluna’s voice seemed
To fade
From the original melody.
In fact, Aluna seemed to
Disappear
From her friend’s memory.
She would watch Strider and Silver Arrow,
Her blue eyes full of grief and regret;
Wondering how her two friends
Could forget
The song all three of them sang
Not that long ago.

Finally, Aluna left
Slipping quietly into the
Moonlit night.
She left at night to avoid raising an uproar
Or possibly starting a fight.
Her disappearance worried some;
Some hadn’t even noticed she was gone
Though they had noticed that
Aluna’s voice was missing
In their song.

But Aluna tries to make the pack remember
That she was once with them.
On calm, cold, starry nights
Aluna will venture out and sing;
Her high, clear voice will ring
Out long and sad
To make her old pack remember
That she was once their friend.

But the duet and its melody
Is still sung so strong
While Aluna’s sad, strong voice
Will sometimes sing
All night long.

Aluna’s song
Tells the sad, sad story
Of how three singing friends
Broke apart.
Of how three became two
Resulting in haunted memories
And a broken spirit and heart.

On certain nights when
Aluna will sing all night long
She sings of how
Three friends used to be;
Singing and creating a beautiful
Three part harmony.
But now a single keening voice
Tells a story
Of how a haunting duet
Replaced the three friend’s song.

[Predator-Fan]

The Beautiful Mistake

A friend once told me
The story of how
The sunflower was made.
The Story made me see
Why the sunflower
Is called the flower of hope.

The Day God decided
To Create the sunflower,
He began by selecting the colors to use.
He chose yellow for the petals,
The color of hope.
For the center,
He chose black, the color of sin.
God placed many long
Yellow petals
Around the round Black center.
Symbolizing
That there is always
Hope
Even though everything seems black.

God placed the large bloom
On a tall, thick green stem.
He stepped back to see
What He had done;
He frowned at first
At what He saw,
Believing that He had to begin again.

The yellow petals that
Surrounded the dark center
Resembled long yellow
Crooked teeth
Surrounding a mouth too large.

God sighed Gently
And reached out for the flower
To begin once more.
Just as He was about to start again
He studied the bloom once more,
And realized that the
Oddness of
The blossom’s petals surrounding
The Dark center
Was what made the flower
Beautiful
So God let the flower
Be.

A symbol of hope
Was made because of a second intake
A true symbol of hope
Was made
Out of God’s
Beautiful mistake.

[Predator-Fan]

I Walk

I get up in the mornin’,
Get ready for school.
I put on my dress
And try to keep cool.
Mama sees my distress,
And she hugs me tight.
She whispers low,
“Hun, you’re gonna be all right!”
“You need your strength,
There’s gonna be talk!
Never reply back,
You just walk.”

I slowly nod,
Knowing she was right.
I adjust my glasses
And hold my books tight.
I walk out of the house
And then walk down the street,
Knowing that I was going to be scorned
By every white girl I will meet.
I do as Mama said,
I walk.

The wind gently pulls
The skirt of my dress.
My heart, it pounds
Painfully within my chest.
The sun shines brightly
I felt its warmth, its heat,
But it does nothing to thaw the fear
Of the white men and women who follow me on the street.
I do as Mama said,
I walk.

They never walk
In front of me,
I just guess
They didn’t want me to see
Who was screaming,
Who was shouting,
Who was yelling,
Or see the faces pouting.
They never walk beside me
They always walk behind.
I guess they just wanted the satisfaction
Of seeing my reaction,
But I pay them no mind.
I do as Mama said,
I walk.

When the crowd
Started shouting out rude names,
I remembered the song
Of so many taunting games:
‘Sticks and Stones
Will break my Bones,
But your Names
Will never hurt Me!’
I guess these people
Think it’s a sin
Because the school admitted
A colored girl in.
With the song
In my head
I do as Mama said,
I walk.

I remember the speech
Of Dr. Martin Luther King,
Of his visions of compassion and unity
His powerful words of “I have a dream!”
I square my shoulders,
Keep my head up high
Though some of the names
That are shouted make me want to cry.
I do as Mama said,
I walk.

Mama was right,
There was lots of talk.
I never replied back
Or responded to the malicious chatter,
Someday it would all end
And segregation will no longer be a matter.
My gaze never altered
As I reached the school,
I felt like I was ready to die
But on the surface I looked cool.
But after that day,
And many more days of malicious talk,
I do as my Mama said,
I walk.

[Predator-Fan]

Crisis

Now don’t get me wrong,
Not all cops are bad.
But the ones who cause problems
Makes me sad.
Crisis.

Like when they follow you
Because of the car you drive.
They’ll jump you when you walk out of the store
Claiming your car has drugs inside.
They have no real proof that there is
My, God! why are they busting on a kid?
When the cops can’t find nothing inside the car
They won’t apologize for the trouble they caused
They’ll leave their victim standing in furious awe.
Crisis.

There are times that your car
Will stall or breakdown on a highway.
Your cell doesn’t work,
So looking for help might not hurt,
So you start walking along the shoulder.
But it’s late at night and cold as hell
When you finally notice a cop in his cruiser.
You might think, “Swell!”
And you hurry to tell
The cop that you need help with your car.
But you really get peeved
When he asks for i. d.
Before he asks what you need
Just to see
If you’re in the system or not.
Crisis.

When your friend from your crew
Decides to blame,
Name you
Just to get out of his dilemma.
So the cops come for you
But you’re royally screwed
Because the cops won’t listen to you.
Your face grows pale
As they haul you to jail
Because your friend decided to lie
To the cops.
Crisis.

You like the new air freshener
You have in your car;
It’s different, smells great-
A highly enticing aroma.
But for some reason,
That sketchy cop will see
That your fresheners originality-
A pineapple whose leaves are weed-
Will give him a reason to pull you over.
You know you did nothing wrong
Other than jamming to a really good song,
But you know you followed the road laws all along.
But you are thoroughly peeved
When he asks if you use weed
Just because he doesn’t like the freshener he sees.
Crisis.

Now don’t get me wrong,
Not all cops are bad.
But the ones who cause problems
Makes me sad.
Crisis.

[Predator-Fan]

Missing You

An ice cold wind blows
A snowflake in empty homes-
I sit missing you.

[Predator-Fan]

Memory
The smell of fir trees
Slowly fill my mind of home-
Christmas time and snow.

[Predator-Fan]

Walking Home
Cold, quiet days
Smell of burning leaves and smoke-
Walking home from school.