Below, is a series of poems based on a fictional account of some vampiric chicanery and its aftermath. Enjoy! But first you should look under the bed.
Dark Passage by Jeff LeMond
A cargo ship set sail that night on stormy waves of cold.
Nine crewmen and the captain and a manifest so old.
Half a dozen boxes of experimental earth.
Soil from Romania, how much is that worth?
As time goes by and and crewmen die
the captain starts to fear.
This raging storm is following us.
There’s something wicked here.
One by one as nights go by, his shipmates disappear.
Soon its just the captain, his cargo, and his fear.
The last night on dark waters,
This storm is strongest now.
The captain does the best he can
to ground the ship somehow.
Weeks later, on a lonely beach
along NewEngland’s coast.
A cargo ship from eastern Europe driven by its ghost.
The long dead captain tied himself to the helm
as last resort.
A noble man right to the end, Such honor and comport.
People started wondering,
what happened to the crew?
A raging storm had wrecked the ship, nearly torn into.
Most all the precious cargo
had been crushed by sea and rocks.
One single soul survivor.
The strangest oblong box.
silly things
by Jeff LeMond
Your first night alone in this too old house,
a storm is working up.
Light the candles, brew a pot,
you sure could use a cup.
The night goes on, you start to calm
You haven’t got a care.
Was that a noise?
A frightful noise from down the basement stair.
Unearthly rapping, horrid tapping,
the flapping of hungry wings.
Just go down the stairs and have a peak.
see what knowledge brings.
As you make cold progress towards the steps
your heartbeat races fast.
Each breath you take and draw in deep,
as if it were your last.
As the basement door moons closer
old corruption fills the air.
Your senses pick up furtive movement.
Something wrong in there.
The end is near, you fight your fear and turn the light switch on.
And as the dark gives way to light
and fear gives way to calm.
Nothing in the basement but this dusty oblong box.
wrapped up tight with rusty chains,
secured with rusty locks.
The people who once lived here
must have left the box behind.
I wonder whats inside this thing,
kept running through her mind.
Must be quite important to have locked it up this way.
It couldn’t hurt to have a look and so without delay…
She moves off to the workbench
for some tools she will need.
to free the chains and look inside and satisfy her greed.
With tools in hand, her wide eyes land on three antique key rings.
she picks them up and ends the night with
darkest silly things.
more silly things
by Jeff LeMond
A shortcut through the park at night,
Reckless and alone.
Through cold despair, without a care
she makes her way towards home.
Rejected by her lover,
neglected by her friends.
She drank a few too many, too late to make amends.
She thinks her life is over now
no reason to go on.
Everything she worked for,
and all she loved is gone.
so with reckless abandon, she moves into the night.
Willing to surrender, giving up without a fight.
And just now on the edge of things,
about to lose her mind.
She hears the heavy foot falls coming quickly from behind.
With baited breath she fights her fear to see whats coming on.
An old man walks his dog right past,
Suddenly they are gone.
And once again her fear sets in
as lonely is the night.
Relief at last, she starts to grin,
Her home is just in sight.
But as she now approaches, she sees the door’s a jar.
Someone must have gained ingress,
I wonder who they are?
She tries to sneak and have a peak
just then her cell phone rings.
Dark shadows fall upon her now,
quiescent silly things
The Oblong Box
by Jeff LeMond
Unwittingly uncovered in a farmhouse basement room.
Locked away securely, to seal its owners doom.
This long forgotten relic from a dark and distant past,
Sarcophagus eternal,
from kingdoms cold and vast.
The thing that came from loosened bonds
requires time to heal.
But first it feeds, my how it feeds
until its had its fill.
With strength renewed and youth reclaimed
the prince is making plans.
A brand-new world with so much life.
Mere putty in his hands.
With mad desire crowding in
the creature makes his play.
With confidence, he rules the night,
But dreads the light of day.
So with each night his numbers grow
as by each day he sleeps.
This plague will never stop,
until it gets that which it seeks.
Resembling some foul charnel house,
that old basement with its box.
Bodies strewn about the floor,
some rusty chains, and locks.
This could have been avoided
and such terror never known.
If someone would have stayed upstairs
and left well enough alone.
If someone had resisted, the urge to look inside.
But her need to solve this mystery
would never be denied.
So spreading like a virus with malevolent intent.
Driven by vampiric lust
his cause shall not relent.
If some brave soul could breach the tomb
during daylight hours.
The oblong box might be destroyed ,
regardless of its powers.
That thing inside, that darkest wraith,
might be dispatched as well.
Good things come to those who wait.
But this belongs in hell…
aftermath by Jeff LeMond
In and out of consciousness,
struggling for her life.
Emotions cascade through her mind,
loneliness and strife.
A dark and unnamed hunger,
Like she’s never felt before.
Wrought with mass confusion,
as she lay there on the floor.
Only for a moment, she summons up the will.
To raise her head and look around, to see if this is real.
Why am I in this basement?
What the hell is going on?
Guess I must have blacked out here,
and slept right through till dawn.
She was far too week to notice, tools littering the floor.
The rusty chains and rusty locks,
the crimson scar she bore.
Just now, all she thought about
was heading up to bed.
A nice long nap would suit her fine,
and then she must be fed…
As she leaves the basement,
and sunlight touches skin.
Such pain the like she’s never felt,
A burning from within.
Retreating to the viper’s nest,
seeking refuge there.
She sidles up beside the box
such an odd affair.
Something strange just crossed her mind,
in times like these, it will.
As closer she lie near that box,
safe it makes her feel.
At first it seems a bit un real
some kind of crazy dream.
Wrong or right, Fight or flight,
…Or something in-between.
And then she drifts away to sleep
Yes, like us, they rest too.
With dreams of darkest work ahead,
so many things to do…
The next thing she remembers,
she’s alone, it’s cold, and dark.
She’s standing on the front porch,
at a house down by the park.
Her thirst has been abated.
She’s never felt so strong.
Never-mind the lifeless body sprawled out on the lawn.
Never mind the blood
and all the sorrow this stuff brings.
Never mind the consequences,
Using those three rings .
The only thing that matters now,
as she wipes her bloody face.
Is returning to her basement and that box,
It’s her safe place.
Lady in the Mist
by Jeff LeMond
As I was walking home one night
something strange occurred.
Listen closely,
this might be the wildest tale you’ve ever heard.
Was she a ghost? A wraith or spirit.
looming in the night?
This un-named thing still haunts my dreams.
This devil, this delight.
As I was walking suddenly, I came upon a mist.
So fragrant and alluring, impossible to resist.
I feared it be evanescent,
A sweet and darkest kiss.
with all my senses overwhelmed, no time to be remiss.
I’ve done my best to recollect
with as much great detail.
that time I went to heaven,
and that time I went to hell.
Diaphanous was the gown she wore
unearthly shades of white.
Anamorphic, transcending, on the very edge of night.
Such utter beauty I beheld insufficient to resist.
This dark and tenebrous angel, This lady in the mist.
She called to me and when she called I fell into her arms.
Bewitched and so bedazzled,
Captivated by her charms.
I gave myself so freely, body, mind, and soul.
Mere moments in this ecstasy with such a costly toll.
Then the fog dissolved at last, and there I was alone.
With heavy heartfelt emptiness so chilling to the bone.
Where on earth my angel? …How could she go astray?
Her countenance, her visage, her domineering way.
I lost my heart and soul that night,
for what I can not say.
And I would do it all again if next time she would stay.
You might think me foolish, this crazy tale I tell.
My dark, unworldly princess, My heaven, and my hell.
But if you find yourself out walking late at night hear this.
Have a care and best beware, …the lady in the mist.
On Tenebrous Wings By Jeff LeMond
Over moonlit mountain, woodland, hillside streams;
A candle lighted village,
gazing down on furtive dreams.
Over clouds, through space and time,
Time suspended, or so it seams.
I search the night for something right.
Alive, on tenebrous wings.
A preternatural feeling deep inside my soul,
drives medieval hunger,
it dare not let me go.
Once again surrendering to what this new life brings.
A thousand lifetimes lived at night,
aloft on tenebrous wings.
A smile becomes a rictus,
the heart is beating fast.
A race against the sunrise.
The darkness racing past..
I contemplate the future,
and what tomorrow brings.
Alive for now, forever night,
Away on tenebrous wings.
And what survival does to me, alas, it’s hard to tell.
Endless thirst, and agony. a cruel witches spell.
I’l never see a bluebird fly or hear the song he sings.
Imprisoned by relentless spite. Tenacious, Tenebrous, Wings.
The light of day
By Jeff LeMond
Through sunny skies we look at things
and see them as they are.
No one dare deceive us there, perception clear and far.
With diligence we seize the day, alert; without a care.
Masters we, of our own fate, we move without despair.
Kings and queens of life and dreams,
no force can hold us back.
Until the daylight yields to Night,
and sunshine fades to black.
Our confidence is tenuous without the light we crave.
Nevermore delirious, …and so we misbehave.
But all thats seen is understood,
we tell ourselves and pray.
No bad thing shall suffer us within the light of day.
Beyond reproach our courage fails
as dawn submits to dusk.
Excitement is replaced by fear
and love replaced by lust.
Supplanted by anxiety, dominion fading fast.
Darkness brings us piety, Our humbleness at last.
A shiver moves along the spine as fear empales the air.
Movement from beneath the bed
It seems that someone’s there.
Panic starts to overwhelm as darkness settles in.
The war we face most every night is one we cannot win.
Fear not oh you with little faith I heard the psalmist say.
For darkness yields and all is new
beneath the light of day.
The Red Worm by Jeff LeMond
A 13th century nobleman, Romanian by birth.
He fought the Turkish empire, for all that he was worth.
And for the catholic church
by his sword the muslims died.
The widow-maker conquered them,
…and many widows cried.
A Turkish prince engaged this king in battle for his land.
For villages and orchards,
and his kingdom, vast and grand.
His castle standing high above a river far below.
The king could have not been prepared
for what he did not know.
This Turkish prince,
This alchemist used sorcery to fight.
Bargaining with satan.
Strengthening his plight.
So late one night in darkest way,
the prince drew up his plans.
A flask of wine was offered him,
A gift from satan’s hands.
When the challenge is delivered,
pour a glass of this.
Throw it in the bastard’s face.
and give his wife a kiss.
Never mind what happens next, just go away in haste.
Allow this wine to do its work.
A brew you should not taste.
The prince approached the castle
with a message for the king.
Respectful of diplomacy,
his group was ushered in.
He met the king and queen
inside a massive banquet hall.
A feast for all the ages.
With food and drink for all.
As the feast was ending, the prince spoke his piece.
A challenge for the kingdom,
then festive moments cease.
The gracious host was furious.
ungrateful Turkish swine.
I anxiously accept your challenge.
You must have lost your mind.
But the prince just stood there smiling,
No time to brag or boast.
Then to the victor goes the spoils.
Let us seal it with a toast.
He poured a glass of darkest wine
and slowly he came on.
He threw it in the masters face,
a kiss and he was gone.
At first the king was furious,
Hit with such disgrace.
And all at once he realizes
something crawling on his face.
The pain erupts in his left eye,
the queen begins to squirm.
She watches as the thing goes in,
A ravenous crimson worm.
The next three days were hell on earth
and finally he died.
A raging fever drove him mad.
The worm was still inside.
Plans were made to bury him
as all his kingdom morned.
Remembering how he lived his life,
and how he died, forlorn.
The royal carpenter worked three days
to build an ornate box.
A lavish final resting place
Poetic paradox.
Alas the king was laid to rest
inside the royal tomb.
Eternally at rest, in peace.
Inside an earthly womb.
But when the Turkish prince returns
to claim his valued prize.
And when he opens up the tomb
Then much to his surprise.
The family crypt is empty.
The oblong box is gone.
The darkest kingdom ever known,
and he is but a pawn.
Never make a pact with satan,
Listen close and learn.
You never know quite where you stand,
or when the worm will turn.
