Stoker Poems

Something To Get Your Teeth Into

YOU HAVE HEARD OF THE WRITER, BRAM STOKER,
HE WROTE ABOUT KILLING, WAS NO JOKER.
HE WOULD GO OUT EVERY NIGHT,
FOR SOME FOOD AND A QUICK BITE.
THEN TAKE SOMEONE HOME JUST, TO POKE HER.

10 10 7 7 10
SYLLABLES CHECKED.
IF I`M WRONG, BITE ME! lol

Wait For the Shake

It's time to clear the highway wrecks
 for the route my parade will take.
I ain't some dead dino,
  I am Tyrant Rex, always on the make.
No more instinct t'extinction,
 listen to "Zarathustra Thus Spake."
I got two hemispheres to flex,
 done with those tactics of mistake.
Like Prof. X but I got magnet eyes,
 I see the encircling snake.
The city's surround sound system's hex
 is a marvel made mine to take.
So where's my Escape, Flashback Tex?
 Believe me, I know what's at stake.
You just another stoker, Lex?
 Nebulous Hugo with an ache?
Not all's 'bout sex and given
 my sword's from the Lady Of The Lake,
I'm the Pen Dragon with my spear,
 as Sun King said next, "Wait for the shake!"

Pounding of the Hammer

“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

Devil Hell Punishment

The devil's work shall not be
put off till tomorrow

So en-charges many minions
to do his bidding for him

But just who is the charming fella

A shoulder in the shadows

Stoker of the fire a bellow

Or merely a convenient confidence
to call upon when frowned upon
your actions are by other's

A wicker version of oneself to
the power multiple of Six

In my defence it was not neither
me nor i but he who made me do
it 

And though i fought him long 
and hard i could not find the 
strength nor will or faith to 
overcome the darker lord

Well that's ok with a twinkle
in his eye said the prosecutor
to the baying congregation

As if what you said rings true 
and are as faithful as you say
then be it only left up to god
himself to place his judgement
upon thee

But be prepared heaven help you
if you are not because what depths
of hell awaits you
 
Because if the devil is all he
is supposedly made out to be 
then surely he hates it and takes
it far more personally than god
when his name is used and 
taken in vain

If one believes in either or

Damned if do

Damned if don't

Who Will Be Great - I

If you look at ol’ Bram Stoker,
Irish writer of Dracula fame,
it can be quite hard to believe
that any remember his name.
At first just a civil servant,
then he managed a London stage,
doing books for Henry Irving,
a great actor of the age.
Then he somehow writes a novel,
of a distant, cruel vampire,
the critics liked the way he wrote,
but the book hardly inspired.
Sales were steady, but most thought it
a good thriller, nothing more,
if you said it was ‘Literary’
their jaws would’ve hit the floor.
But the book kept going steady,
it has never been out of print,
Hollywood put it on the screen,
and the studios made a mint!
It codified a sub-genre,
has defined the vampire’s ways,
when modern minds think of these fiends
they see Dracula to this day.
Henry Irving is long forgotten,
but Stoker we appreciate,
modern horror is in his debt,
you never know who will be great.

Death's Fuel

The poor helping poor.
The rich helping rich.
More fenels in a stoker match
and best get rich.

Ode To the Long Neglected Squirrel

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.

Slave To Tobacco

Smoker
Stoker

Dracula

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

Her Last Date

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

Count Dracula Acrostic

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 ~

Whitby By Night

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

Be Bram Stoker For a Day

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.

Wild Orchid

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

Dracula

I'm Dracula and a creature of the night.
I suck people's blood when I bite.
Vampires don't die, I'll be the Prince of Darkness for eternity.
Getting a stake through my heart or being in sunlight are the only things that can kill me.
I can fly when I turn myself into a bat.
I love to kill and you'd better believe that.
I will drink all of your blood if we come face to face.
People want to kill me because what I do is a disgrace.
When I drink people's blood, I always suck them dry.
A man just put a stake through my heart and now I will die.

(This poem is based on the novel that was written by Bram Stoker.)

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