blue-eyed midnight
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* This has become a fave genre for me, as I’ve always been fascinated by metamorphosis and introspection of a shadowy nature … I hope you enjoy it. *
~
ruin of me …
what was once
a bloom of promise
has become a wilderness of horrors
all for the sake
of your pearly light, strewn
that cornflower eye
that you open wide but once a month …
in my wistful youth,
I dreamt of your enchantments -
what dark-edged demon
were you looking for
that needed the bright of your full gaze?
you, a black-skinned cyclops
searching this orb
for the spell might set it free …
was that it, I mused?
each full face of the moon -
were you hoping for your liberty
and occasion to dance with the stars?
how could I have known in
my callow curiosity?
how could I have envisaged such
a diabolical truth?
it was ME you were searching for -
the chance to turn my blood
to molten metal
my teeth to daggers
and my body to a fiend of the moors -
twisted, powerful as an oak
and thirsting for flesh …
you, Luna
are the pearl of night -
the maiden of mysteries and magic, dark
the recreant lover of lycanthropy -
bane of my breath
and sweet salt of my doom
ages-times-ages ago
the vernal lad I was
wandered the high fells, lost -
dropped sleeping under a copse of cedars
and awakened to the gentle bite
of a broad, beautied canid
(your maidservant)
sable, with eyes of fire opal
the blue sheen of your vaulted gaze
daubing her fur like dew …
she had no intent of devouring me
no sense of animus at all
just PURPOSE -
purpose beyond my grasp
but the wait to discover just that,
was not long …
now -
now you stare like a harlot
these rare nights
just to see my monstrosity -
to behold the wonder of your accursed creation -
the genesis of genocide and guilt
that pierced the heart of a
wee boy of chastity
rife with hope and promise
then charred his dreamy aspirations
with veins of fire
and a conflagration of his marrow …
I … am the damned …
in your sight -
your blue-eyed midnight -
is where the man of me ends
and the beast begins
you, passion’s pain
who stirred my stripling soul
robbed me of my god
and flames my
coursings …
even now.
For the “1258 New Poem Only Poetry Contest”, Brian Strand Judge/Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2023
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