A need you dare not admit. Poetry on a Vampire Mom blog? Why? I’ll tell you.
People won’t admit they read poetry and are moved by it…but late at night they go on the Internet and search it out. It is like pornography. I’m dead serious (no pun intended). It is a need that most people will not dare admit to.
It isn’t a good time for me to expound upon the history of poetry or what caused the American population (among others) claim not to like poets. But I would like to remind everyone, especially those of us who can remember the past several centuries that there was a time that poets were the Rock Stars of our culture.
Sometimes I pull out my old volumes of favorites and read in the quiet of the night or on a rain soaked day. In turn, I also look for the new. I marvel at the many voices I see with poetry on the Internet.
Part of me believes technology with recorded music, radio, TV etc maybe brought an end to the poet as a popular icon. But in turn the Internet, yes the Internet has brought poetry back to life.
I see in the online communities poets being read, not ignored. I don’t read those words online “I don’t like poetry.” I see people who NEVER would read a poem, forwarding poetry to their friends and loved ones.
Poetry is a gift to the soul. Poetry is for everyone. Everyone needs poetry, like a vampire needs blood, like a hawk needs to fly, like a fish needs to swim. I know that wasn’t very poetic but you get the point – I hope.
Your assignment today is to READ, SAVOR and SHARE poetry with someone you love.
Almost two years ago I started writing the blog Vampire Maman (vampiremaman.com) as a parenting blog written by a Modern Vampire. It grew from a few funny stories about parenting, the elderly and ghosts to something much larger and more diverse. A large part of that diversity has been poetry, both mine and the poetry of others.
For me poetry is a way to put down words to express feelings that can’t always be explained otherwise. Just random thoughts and feelings. At least that is what works for me. I’m not a poet. I’m a storyteller.
I use poetry to tell stories. On my blog I talk a lot about 17 year old Garrett, a Vampire teen who is forever in love with one girl after the other – and of course he is always getting his heart broken. To deal with his feelings he writes poetry (which I usually find in the laundry.)
You’re a pale ghost.
A monster waiting,
To feed upon the Vampire boy.
I feel your unholy energy,
Your thirst for power,
You prey on my heart,
You sucked away my love.
Alone in the dark,
I see your selfish soul,
Your glowing eyes,
That burn into my mind.
Loving a human girl,
Can only bring pain,
They are the monsters,
Bitches who bite deep.
Sometimes I’ll write something just to get an idea or feeling across…as in night and darkness…love…and mystery.
Musings of Night and Darkness
Night glimmers with light
The music of crickets
The glow of eyes in the night
Of raccoon and possums
Coyotes and cats
Quiet in their celebrations
Stars and moon light the way
Reflecting off of waters
While cool breeze
Fills the night air
Beauty in darkness
No time for dreams
Vampire Love Poem
I was a spirit
In white silk with pink roses
Bustle in back
You in black tails
Took my breath away
And a century later
When you realized
That I loved you
I could exhale
You Wait At My Door
You wait at my door,
Your bite still fresh,
You will not give up
I must let you in
For after all
I let you in
You are my cat.
And sometimes I write a few words of verse just to start off a story.
You are not prey
For I do not kill
Or take without giving
I don’t steal your dreams
Or make you scream
In your bed alone
I take only what I need
And in return
You are in blissful wonder
Don’t fear the ones
With a shadow for a soul
And a vision of night
“What are you writing?” That was said in a sarcastic tone right from the mouth of the Ghost who materialized over my shoulder like a puff of stale cigarette smoke. That was the last thing I needed.
I glared at him. “Go away. It isn’t for your eyes.”
He gave me a disgusted look. “It isn’t for any eyes.”
“I was just playing around with the words.”
“You’re such a Vampire. Always trying to make your vile nasty things look so innocent. Why don’t you just say that you creep around at night and scare the shit out of people.”
“That is your job Mr. Ghost.”
“Oh right. But you’re pretty creepy.”
I stood up and faced him. “Really? You think I’m creepy?”
He gave me one of those creepy smiles and raised an eyebrow. “I do.”
“That comes from a disembodied dead person who lurks around and stalks people,” I told him.
“I don’t lurk. And you’re not a people. You’re a Vampire. You’re dead too.”
“ Excuse me Nigel, I am not dead.”
“A twisted technicality. And what about your husband? He wasn’t born into your sick and twisted Vampire world. He was held down by a gang of Vampires while their Vampire slut sucked out all of his blood as well as his very life. Then they filled him with their poisoned blood and breath and gave him a shadow for a soul. He had a funeral. His girlfriend cried over his dead cold body. He now, like you, has to drink blood to survive.”
“At least my husband has a body.”
Nigel smiled again. “A body most guys would envy, but he is still a cold dead Vampire.”
“Are you done here?”
“Sure.” The ghost all but rolled his eyes. “You know when you’re angry your fangs come out.”
“Enough.” I snapped out at him.
Then he had the audacity to put his head back and laugh. “Admit it Vampire. I’m your muse.”
“Goodnight Juliette.” He faded away but I could still hear him laughing in the distance.
My favorite poetry on my blog is from other writers. About half the poetry I post isn’t mine. One of my favorites is from my own daughter (written about two years ago). This was an assignment for school but I had to share.
We destroy and help make screaming silence
As wonderful as we are
This world we are destroying
With our safe guns,
Truly false, bitter sweetness
Upside down ways, violently peaceful,
Beautiful flaws we do it’s never been right
Maybe one day the unborn children can make a change
Be yourself, fix the bad karma, live your life and fix things as much as you can
Maybe one day it will all be better
Maybe long after you and me
But things can only get worse before they get better
C. S. Kings Age 12 2012
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman