<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Horror Poetry by Shadow

 


Watery Grave

By Brother Shadow




Night birds shriek—
As if waking from hellish dreams;
Their haunted echoes migrating
Across the cold, rippling darkness;

Gaunt man skims across
Black waves that are liquid shadow,
Thick as Transylvanian soil. . .

Eyes
Light up the night,
Like twin stars borne of hell,
As he makes his way through the labyrinth
Of the ocean,
Searching for his bloody nectar,
Til he is chastised by the flickering golden threat
Of a
Lethal dawn,
Which ends tonight’s quest
For the only drink
That will soothe his
Eternally parched throat. . .

And slowly

As the chill in the air is burned away,

As light drinks shadow,

And waves begin to reflect the pulse of a new day,

Predator of this gothic sea,
Returns to the comforts of his
Old World casket,
Which lies buried beneath
These solemn gravestone waves;

Lost a hundred and twenty seven years ago,
On a luxury liner’s tragic voyage from
Dark, dying Europe,
With its talk of vampires,
And werewolves,
And demons of the night,

This mysteriously sunken vessel,
The authorities
Never could explain;
And the corpses!
Blood drained from them
So completely;

Mere whispers,
All that have ever found their way to shore,
Carried by the syncopations of
Lapping anonymous waves;

And now, each evening, he patrols these
Ominous waters,
Seeking
Refugees, not unlike himself,
Whom he might feed upon,

For they will not
Be missed
By this country that welcomes
The world’s huddled masses;

No,
They will be convinced
To accept his hospitality,
As they well should,
In this,
The palace,
Of his beautiful,
Unshining,
Watery grave.



© Shadow, 2006

Reprinted from what the HELL? San Diego: Galleria de Cerebrus, 2006. 16-19.


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Brother Shadow is an artist, graphic designer, editor, poet, and writer living in San Diego, CA. He can be heard at Terrie Leigh Relf’s Off-Beat Open Mic from time-to-time.