Best Stoker Poems
Around midnight, in the library I found myself drawn,
to these shelves haunted still by Poe, Stevenson and King,
as a rare, late October storm brews beyond the pane,
bringing life back to the creatures of Shelley and Stoker.
To these shelves, haunted still by Poe, Stevenson and King,
my fingers grasp a book from under the dust and webs,
bringing life back, to the creatures of Shelley and Stoker,
it's well-worn, leather spine just waiting to chill my own.
My fingers grasp a book, from under the dust and webs,
while autumn winds rustle leaves like crisp, yellowed paper,
it's well-worn leather spine, just waiting, to chill my own,
my head, sinking further back into the velvet-lined chair.
While autumn winds rustle, leaves like crisp, yellowed paper,
candlelight flickers dimly across the tattered old pages,
my head sinking further, back into the velvet-lined chair,
where the ghosts of Irving and Dickens will not let me sleep.
Candlelight flickers dimly, across the tattered, old pages,
I, unable to recline, with the shadows thrown by the fire,
where the ghosts, of Irving and Dickens, will not let me sleep,
residents of the dark welcome, and wait to be revisited.
I, unable to recline with the shadows, thrown by the fire,
as a rare, late October storm brews, beyond the pane,
residents of the dark, welcome and wait, to be revisited,
around midnight, in the library, I found myself... drawn.
Categories:
stoker, books, night, october, repetition,
Form:
Pantoum
7/20/19
"I'll be your Joker"
Still a registered voter
Signed up to be an organ donor
And finally became a car owner
I rarely use a controller
When it's time, I'll man up and buy a stroller
As well as panels that are solar
Near and far from areas that are polar
Doesn't matter if I ever get a Range Rover
Or Roadster
I'm barely ever sober
Always been a loner
And stoner
3 months away from another October
If you want to be my Harley Quinn, I'll be your "Joker"
Not no poser
Where are you Scully? This is agent Mulder
Anytime you want, I'll be your shoulder
To lean on
From here to way beyond
For eons
Where's my Marge? I am Homer
I'll be your rock over and over
Since I've gotten nobler
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder
I've seen it so much, I could compile a folder
Life's one giant rollercoaster
It's really revving my motor
All these women giving me a b***r
And then the cold shoulder
As if I am an ogre
I remain a soldier
Drinking high end coffee, no more Folgers
Getting wiser and older
Becoming bolder
As the world gets colder
I'm not feeling dolor
Just multi tasking, while a fire continues to smoulder
Maintaining my composure
Finding closure
Getting closer
To greatness instead of being mediocre
I enjoyed the work I did with several growers
As well as trapping some gophers
Occasionally I'll partake in poker
Even though I'm not the best hoaxer
Once or twice I used a fire stoker
When it came to Mary Jane, I was a doter
A fan of it's fragrance, it's not what I'd call an odor
I consume some products made by Clover
And am usually in places considered remoter
It's time I get a toaster and holster
I don't really need a Flame Thrower
Or to get my face on a most wanted poster
Suit yourself if you want to wear a boater
Or choker
Houses in continual foreclosure
Not always wise to go for the price that is lower
Someday my mind and body will be slower
And one day it'll all be over
10-4 over and out
And now you know, what i'm really about
Not just by word of mouth
As they say don't look a gift horse in the mouth
Regardless of if you had your doubts
By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories:
stoker, dark, deep, poetry, rap,
Form:
Rhyme
“I am the monster that breathing men would kill. I am Dracula.”
Bram Stoker
The successive pounding of the hammer.
The stake in his heart took my breath away.
Came the bright torches, village clamor,
the successive pounding of the hammer.
Rosin of the vampire, screeching glamour,
tightening of cold hands, recant to pray.
The successive pounding of the hammer.
The stake in his heart took my breath away.
10/28/2020
Categories:
stoker, dark, halloween,
Form:
Triolet
Coffin is where this creepy fellow sleeps
Other people’s blood he likes to drink
Unique teeth – shiny pointed fangs
Naked necks are his tasty midnight snack
Transylvania is his homeland, its soil gives him strength
Darkness is his only friend he works undercover of the night
Real name is Count Vladislaus Dracula
Always avoids eating garlic in his food
Cannot abide a sunny day
Unless he has a wooden stake through his heart he cannot die
Loves to shapeshift into a bat, wolf, dog or fog
Alucard is his name backwards beware he’s cunningly disguised
Jan Allison
29th March 2014
Written for contest ‘Be Bram Stoker for a day’
Sponsored by Darren Watson
~ Awarded 3rd place ~
Categories:
stoker, gothic, horror,
Form:
Acrostic
The moon reflected on the sea,
A night more beautiful than day.
I wheezed and struggled up the steps
And looked out over Whitby Bay.
I saw the harbour far below,
And heard the splashing of the waves,
I turned around to see the church,
The ruined abbey and the graves.
I thought of Dracula, the Count,
Imagined him and Lucy there,
And then I saw a hulking shape -
But, oh, the menace in that glare.
He showed his fangs and hissed at me;
My feet were rooted to the spot.
I cried for help and waved my arms
At people on a distant yacht.
He lunged and bit into my neck;
I tried to fight but felt so weak.
And that is how I came to die -
And you’re the prey I need to seek…
for Darren's Bram Stoker contest
Categories:
stoker, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
Dracula was in a fix
Blood and sweets just do not mix
The dentist had no doubt
The fangs had to come out
Goodbye to vampire’s tricks.
-------------------------------------
Author: Paul Callus ~ 13th April 2014
Contest: Be Bram Stoker for a day
Sponsor: Darren Watson
Placing: Honorable Mention
Categories:
stoker, humor,
Form:
Limerick
She’d thought he was eyeing her rack
as with great charm, he led her out back.
But she realized too late
this would be her last date
as her neck got sucked dry by a Drac!
*For the contest of Darren Watson: Be Bram Stoker for a Day
Categories:
stoker, funny,
Form:
Limerick
Categories:
stoker, humorous,
Form:
Footle
At the Borgo Pass I met a coach and horse,
And the villagers warned me not to go,
They were worried about a supernatural force,
But I had business in Transylvania, though.
The coach rumbled along the Carpathian mountain road,
Through the lightning and pounding rain,
We arrived at an old, darkened abode,
And I thought this trip was all in "vein".
But then opened the great castle door,
And the Count bid me welcome to his house,
He cast no shadow on the floor,
Where scurried a bat and a mouse.
In the mirror he cast no reflection,
On our dinner he did not dine,
And upon my curious inspection,
He drank no water or wine.
Then late that night I awoke with fright,
As something hovered over my bed,
Then I felt a quick, sharp bite,
From a vampire who's eyes glowed red.
Then cried the children of the night,
As all at once, there shined a beam,
I awoke to see a ray of sunlight,
And realized it was all just a dream.
(This poem was my tribute to "Dracula" by Bram Stoker)
Categories:
stoker, fantasy, horror, tribute,
Form:
Quatrain
High winds - stirring sea - surf pounds - Whitby beach
Storm clouds - residual - seagulls - frantic cry
Midnight - a figure - in view - ascending
Bowed down - wearily - cliff steps - Abbey bound
Skywards - waning moon - purple - in streaking
Figure - looking down - last time - hesitates
Cliffside - beckoning - then moves - in seeing
A flash - lightening - from grave - arising
Hungry - Dracula - no escape - figure froze
Exposed - vulnerable - a scream - was stifled
No-one - witnessing - horror - stricken face
Could, would - testify - to what - next took place.
Categories:
stoker, character, horror,
Form:
Free verse
He cuts the sun with his teeth; therefore, ashes were not at his feet.
He was born by day but his family lived by night.
This was his purpose because of his nocturnal life.
He had the life of a vampire.
No one knew his secret because his life was normal.
Inside was darkness.
This is his family embodied.
They did not worry about daylight.
They work, lived, loved, and played.
A generation never to be told and West Virginia would be there origin.
They all are white collar by vocation - the future of a great nation.
By fate, they would be rich in blood - not thirsty for others.
Once old, their thirst would form because they would desire to stay young.
Do not worry this family has to grow in which they will be a manifold.
In the world of vampires, Bram Stoker thrives.
Dracula is alive.
_______________________________________/
Motif: Vampire
Categories:
stoker, america, birth, body, career,
Form:
Epic
The end of the Pier was shrouded in mist
the Shadows we cast were defining,
We plighted our troth, and then we kissed,
Neath a full orbed moon that was shining,
We walked hand in hand to the end of the pier,
The ghosts of our past reawakened our fear,
We had to be strong, for ourselves and each other,
Whether we could, we were about to discover.
The mist started lifting and in the moonlight
a blanket of bats had just taken flight,
then in a moment the bats were not there,
they had completely dissipated into thin air.
We both had worked on the Pier in the past,
It had long since closed, when we were there last,
Stoker wrote, Whitby, was were the vampires came,
But this abandoned pier received them just the same.
As we approached the door, that led into the pier,
From the frightened flight of bats, one still was here,
A sudden metamorphosis, took place within the frame,
And a vampire stood before us, I knew him, and his name.
Vladimir, I said to him, I once fought by your side,
I am your nemesis and fate, from me you cannot hide,
For I am here, to stop your cheer, and the evil that is you.
he gave me quite an evil look, deciding what to do.
I shined my torch upon his face,
Remembering how we loved this place,
The fair was now in disrepair,
But seeing Vladimir, we did not care,
The place had always been such fun,
especially when blessed by a warm summer sun,
Vladimir was an amusement, placed within the fair,
whose main role it was, to frighten and to scare,
The pier had no power, so we could not turn him on,
But the memory of what happened, has certainly not gone,
To animate the mannequin, required a coin to go,
Then Vladimir would start, his ghoulish vampire show.
He would give an evil cackling laugh, that shred your nerves apart,
He certainly was quite frightening, and not for the faint of heart.
I suppose it was a funny place for us to reminisce,
But when in love there are memories, you do not want to miss.
I think we now are over, the need to see the pier,
Generally, we remember it, over a glass of beer,
I suppose we might go back one day and have a laugh at Vlad,
Although the old Piers crumbling, it’s really rather sad.
Categories:
stoker, horror, nostalgia,
Form:
Verse
Hail, high denizen of tree,
not one improvident like me,
safe within your arbor's ruts,
there you keep your store of nuts.
Autumnal bunting soon must end.
and winter dearth is round the bend.
When I behold you as you nibble,
what need have I of nymph or Sibyl?
Lavish more verses on some cat!
Eliot and Gray have seen to that.
Browning did not shun the rat,
nor did Bram Stoker spurn the bat.
Is a squirrel, red or grey
a lesser poet's theme than they?
Let no distain those efforts hamper
that turn our thoughts
to those that scamper.
Categories:
stoker, nature, tree,
Form:
Couplet
I worked for Boeing when I first met Fred
Liked him the instant he called me “brain dead”
We were both part of the same office mob
Both engineers fairly new on the job
I was single then, but didn’t last long
Got married and then my Corvette was gone
Being married soon my budget was tight
When Fred said, “Let’s car pool”; I said, “Alright”
Fred drove first on our initial commute
The car he was in, was tiny and cute
“It’s a Vespa”, he said, “easy on gas”
I’m thinking, “In a wreck, I’ll lose my ass!”
The engine inside was like a lawnmower
A small two stoker, but still was a goer
It wasn’t long before carpooling died
Fred could drive so cheap, all I did was ride
What Fred charged was ridiculously small
And on every commute we had a ball
Other commuters would stare at the car
Till finally I said, “This has gone too far”
If someone stared, we’d talk about their car
Really loud, so they’d hear something bazaar
It was always a put down of some kind
We got really good at it over time
Every trip to work and back, we had fun
Except an earthquake hit while on one run
Seeing telephone poles sway to and fro
Just wasn’t my bag, I want you to know
From his house to mine, wasn’t very far
I played the uke and Fred played guitar
We’d get together; play and sing a song
Our friendship today is still very strong
Just as we are close friends, so are our wives
We’ll be that way for the rest of our lives
Space between triglyphs in a Doric frieze?
If you see Fred, ask for an answer please!
(I’d sooner Lipton!)
Categories:
stoker, friendship, car, , cute,
Form:
Quatrain
The carriages sway and how they shudder
Rattling behind the one-eyed monster
A powerful beam lighting the tracks ahead
Piercing the gloom, onward it sped
Unaware, uncaring the driver slept
Was destination destined or would it be death?
Windows barred to keep cold night at bay
The passengers asleep where they sit or lay
The rhythm of wheels, fast and frenetic
The rock of wagons deepening their sleep
Belching black smoke, the behemoth thundered
Could death be averted, the angels wondered
Ere the train broke the night’s quiet
The countryside slumbered in the cold night
And after the train had thundered past
Birds screeched, freed from the spell that night had cast
Their banshee shrieks echoing ominously in the dark
Nature’s feathered creatures had gone berserk
Clickety clack clickety clack went the wheels
Changing tracks and terrain with no change in speed
Just when it seemed that all souls were lost
The pace slackened - speed and distance had extracted its cost
With limbs gone limp, the stoker collapsed and lay still
And the train slowed down, creaking and groaning as it went uphill
Categories:
stoker, fear, night, night,
Form:
Rhyme