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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required "Monsieur L'Vampyre Meets the Werewolf" While walking on the path sublime accustomed to at times, when I'm just going neither here nor there-- but be content to only passing time; from my Chateau near Poitiers, I happened to a fine display of cutlery, so very fine, from sellers merely passing my own way. Says I, I hadn't time to spare, and no time then to see his ware, but could at my chateau tonight-- the man replied, he had a problem there! He then explains his eyes grow tired-- by dark, his sleep cannot be mired, so he will send his daughter fair, o! joy within my days, my heart was fired! Anticipation all aglow, I went to where I meant to go, and purchased I, the finest wine; then quick I got me back to my chateau! O! How we laughed the night away! My choice of wine, she never say, And then I viewed her cutlery, and told her I would buy the case this day! The offer swept her off her feet, I asked her, "if we be descrete..." the proposition you must know, is sharing this cool night, some body heat! And so led I right up the stair, as heard I music, ev'rywhere, or maybe just the mood I be, and in my private light, such beauty there! Loved we, then well into the night, I thought we'd rise with morning light, and when she feigned into a trance, I quick set in to make our loving right; and as I moved a lock of hair, revealing such of beauty there, set I my teeth, to make the mark for not a mark did I see anywhere! Closed I my eyes, as she concede, my teeth about to fill my need; when on my shoulder were a pain-- so sharp--like I have never known indeed! And in a moment, suddenly so terrible, a cry there be, a howling I'd not heard before so harsh it chilled the very soul of me! Her skin, once smooth unto my own, was wrinkled and some hair had grown! and my own blood be on her chin! And in this dark we be there all alone! And as I kept myself afar, one hand held to my bleeding scar, another howl of death there be by someone else, who pushed the door ajar! Just hairy, vile and in decay was how they looked to me, the way a rabid dog, I'd seen before; and needing blood--as I need ev'ry day! And carried he, just then I see a blade from my own cutlery-- I'd just now paid my money down, now they would use that very knife on me! Such foaming of the mouths! I knew there not a thing that I could do unless I make it cross the room where waits my derringer with bullets two! She, groaning as if then she would but leap on me and make it good! But stepped I to the other side, then runned I just as fearful as I could! Then quickly grabbed it to my hand, from off the chest, how I had planned, just as her father camed my way but steady then I grow, and made my stand! I volleyed then with no adeau a silver tip, the first of two; deep in the heart attacking me, and how he cried! But fell he as I knew! But love hath pity if it start, and love unfinished will not part, so sank me there, the teeth of me into her neck and to her very heart. She fell, and back the same old way, I'd loved so well that very day, the fairest of the fair I knew, and that is just how I would have her stay; so fired I while she lying weak into her heart just dark and bleak, and how I cried the night away-- there are no words I know--to ever speak. © ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
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