Distinct — his song was laced with soil, a whiff
of corpse; a destiny: his magnetism
of tapered fingers, priestlike porcelain skin.
She left her bed, and by the moonlit cliff.
for secret tryst, she met, no cause for schism
forbidden lover, darkly cloaked: not sin
but lust, like water, cold and fresh, she’s stiff
not fearful, she’s the light and he’s her prism.
Arriving softly like the wind, his grin
unsettling, yet in kissing, viper-swift
his hands around her nape, they swirl in rhythm
of harmony, she’s bending inward — flinch
as tenderly, for love, she steals his breath
impaled her knight has left and married death.
Vampire by Edvard Munch
Today Toni want’s us to write Halloween poetry, vampires, ghouls and ghosts, you decide at dVerse Poetics. Have fun, the bar opens at 3 PM EST.
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October 20, 2015
Björn Rudbergs writings 
S.c.a.r.y. Excellent tale. Nice twist. I expected him to be the killer.
Ha… nothing’s better than a twist at the end..:-)
That was a different twist at the end. It’s usually those vampires that have the upper hand over their “prey.” Love how you describe him with his porcelain skin, smell of dirt and whiff of corpse. Really nice, Bjorn!
Maybe she was the vampire here….
Yes, I didn’t see that. It’s usually a guy Vampire swooping down on a helpless woman. Now who was the helpless one?! :~)
She sounds nasty, Bjorn. Great description. 🙂
She might just be hungry.
The hunter gets captured by the game….nice write, Björn
Or the prey was the hunter in the end, a lure for carnivores.
Wonderful tapestry of words, holding the suspense and twisting at the end – wonderful.
Thank you, this time of the year is the time to be scary.
Though I don’t partake in Halloween , I do love the creepiness that emerges because of it. 😊
🙂 and of course you have less of October darkness down under.
That we do, already into daylight savings.
This phenomenal poem can be read in multiple ways. One the one hand, perhaps he is a vampire already but his most painful death comes in falling in love with her. Also, the metaphor may be that he is dead inside, numb, until he comes to love her. Then he embraces a different sort of death. Either way, I think he welcomes the pain.
I love these sections:
“Distinct — his song was laced with soil” … This is a man with a unique voice, burying his song or poem or voice or self. Also, there’s a double meaning in “soil” … and in “lace.” This makes me think of drugs — one kind with just a touch of another added to it. Lace is a tender touch, feminine, decorative. Soil is dirty, error, sin. I love the marriage of those two images. I love the way you describe him as priestlike and magnetic, as if he’s someone who can easily drawn in followers.
If a woman leaves her bed at midnight and finds herself on a cliff, she is likely considering suicide. Female ghosts also haunt such locales, in movies and such. Yet, at the end of the poem, it sounds like the man might have killed himself, body or spirit, because of what loving her did to him.
“no cause for schism” … Hmmm. This makes me think she had the same belief system as he.
“forbidden lover, darkly cloaked” … I like your vagueness here; it makes me wonder which one of them is forbidden, which one is darkly cloaked … if not both.
I like your interesting comparison of lust to cold water. Also the way you suggest that she might be a “stiff” in body and/or spirit as well. Plus, maybe she’s rigid, unbending, at first — not afraid, per se; just firm.
“she’s the light and he’s her prism” … I love this. How creative you are!
This is my favorite section:
“Arriving softly like the wind, his grin
unsettling, yet in kissing, viper-swift
his hands around her nape, they swirl in rhythm” … Very sexy.
And this: “she’s bending inward” … a contrast to the previous mention of her being stiff.
“flinch as tenderly, for love” … This makes me think that feeling love or tenderness makes her flinch, as if those are emotions she tries to avoid. Lust is safe; love is not.
I like that in those last two lines, it’s unclear who’s impaled. He has left, but is it because he was impaled? Or is she impaled and then he’s left?
What if “death” is even representative of another person? Maybe he’s left this girl, standing on the cliff alone, to go marry someone else?
SO many possibilities here; I love it!
I love how you can read so much into my text… way beyond what I might have thought.. but a vampire myth is always a story of something else isn’t it.. it could be abuse, it could be forbidden sexuality it could be so many thing, and once you bring in a myth it makes all the difference (and ambiguity)…
Whew, this is a chilling write! The ending, with her stealing his breath & impaling him chill me to the core. Seems like this forbidden love/lust was doomed since inception. The vampire painting is perfect!
This vampire painting is so much better than the well known scream… it’s one of my favorite paintings actually
Excellent poem, terrific twist at the end, killer actually. You faked us out with his vampire-like personal traits & odors; the perfect build up for the conquest of a nubile maiden (like a straw man argument in debate). The Munch painting is way cool, never seen it before. I like the line /she’s the light & he is her prism/ considering she is a daughter of darkness it would have to be moonlight, I guess.
Yikes, what a twisted ending ~ Love the macabre lusty secret tryst Bjorn ~
Ha.. yes I was going to end it with the poor maiden being sucked dry, but that’s what makes rhymes interesting.. they would not cooperate.
“not sin
but lust,”
Interesting
is lust a sin?
I love when the female turns the tables
🙂 there is a certain joy in turning the tables.
as tenderly, for love, she steals his breath
impaled her knight has left and married death.
Love the twist at the end! Scintillating 🙂
she’s the light and he’s her prism – just outstanding!
Thank you
Very creepy! 🎃
🙂
Oh, now, that is creepy. I love the line about marrying death and also the formal structure that you give the poem seems to add to the mood.
I think mood and meter can work together.
Well, that was a bit haunting…dancing on the darkside again Bjorn. You know on that night the veil is very thin one never knows what will happen.
Haunting and dark, very much like the original vampire folk tales of SE Europe, what we in Romania call ‘strigoi’.
Oh yes.. exactly like those old tales.
Vampires in general give me the chills or the “jimjams” as Toni mentions.
“she’s the light and he’s her prism”….love this line and I think it gently eluded to the twist…or maybe that was just my interpretation. 🙂
Ah.. yes one has to have some seeds for the imagination…:-)
With your words, you paint a series of scenes that culminate in Edvard Munch’s piece … a kind of ghoulish synergy of painting and poetry coming together – and creating an intensified effect.