St. Kilda Pier

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Pausing above the breakwater

on the edge of St. Kilda Pier

capture a father and daughter

tangled in photography gear.

Her pink scarf dances in the breeze

as her world falls behind the trees.

In the shadows with bells and chimes

she stops being guarded by time.

Enchanted by the soft whistles

emerging from the creaking boats.

Posts, etched in sailors initials

tells the stories of life afloat.

Raptures of little blue penguins

Modeling for their human friends

nestle themselves in the deep rocks

quiet and safe along the docks.

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#NaPoWriMo Day Fourteen – “Song of Sorrow”

Whilst upon my weekend web travels I came across this artist: Victoria Frances – and was so taken with this piece I couldn’t help but write about it. If you want to see more of Victoria’s work please see here: http://www.victoriafrances.es/en/ 

Painted smiles and comical tears

lie beneath a gold plated mask

so many faces; so many years

Who I am? It’s only natural to ask.

I am the forgotten extra

a dark, morose, Venetian clown

just waiting for my exit, so

Death can rescue me from this crown.

For my master sits on the bloody throne

a cheater of time and of death.

I am a mere mortal instrument

to entertain until my last breath.

He found me by the Grand Canal

a weary flower weeping

took me for his possession

another toy for his keeping.

Winter breathes inside these walls

compelled to the dreary and dark

bound by magic into the night

cursed by an invisible mark.

At sunset, the music will start

and echo through the dusky halls

I am captive in his shadows

imprisoned inside the dark stone walls.

A sestina poem about vampires… or at least a poorly constructed first attempt!

In the forest, beneath the tree’s shadow

A lost young girl snuggles into the dark

Embracing the cold she pulls her cloak on

Hypnotized by the tall handsome vampire

His hungry eyes lingering at the mark

burnt onto her skin when she met her doom.

 

Many nights have passed since he met his doom

His twisted wicked past leaves a shadow.

Etched into his soul, an eternal mark,

A reminder of days before the dark.

A child of the night he is a vampire

He doesn’t sleep, he is always turned on.

 

There is no blame, no one to put it on.

The morning light will always be their doom.

Blood bonds them, united as vampires

Roaming the night, living in the shadow

Guided by the moon, dancing in the dark

Children of the night, evil has left its mark.

 

Time has a habit of growing that mark

The moonlight is all they can depend on

Paving their fate as creatures of the dark

Haunted by the memories of their doom

Their mortal selves dead in the shadows

Their souls succumb to the kings of vampires.

 

Lessons are learnt from her master vampire

She ventures through the night to make her mark

performing her dance in the forest shadow

with only her charm and wits to rely on

she brings the next mortal to their doom

as eternal beings of the shadows.

 

A mark is left when we fall to the dark

Our inner vampire takes nightmares to build on

Here we meet our doom and succumb to the shadows.