Five Poems by Linda Sparks

 

Stygian Darkness

Come with me.

I offer my hand.

A gift of fecund pleasure

And exquisite madness.

I promise you

The desires of kings

And the dance of Salome.

You whisper into my ear,

A husky, breathless heat.

My sinuous dance

Speaks of ancient serpents

And the old gods

And ecstasy unknown.

Take my hand

And we shall entwine

Beyond mortal dreams.

Your hot blood burns

Searing my cold flesh.

Together,

We shall journey

Into the Stygian Darkness

And into the Valley of Death.

Madness

They insist that I am utterly mad

Yet my heart soars and I feel glad.

Dancing under the moon's fertile light,

Giving homage to the goddess of night.

My sleek skin shines silvery and sweet,

As sky-clad, dancing with magical feet.

I marvel at the wolf's song,

Insisting that I truly belong.

These woods are mine and wild,

A place where I was once a child,

And learned the great power of all things,

Caring little for gold bands or silver rings.

I hear the melancholic whispers of old

Ever believing the ancient tales told.

Perhaps one might venture here

Seeing me and feel a bit of fear.

Is it the knife in my hand you crave?

And the ultimate dance upon a grave?

Calling me mad or wild or fae

And stealthily planning to betray.

Do you understand my life at all?

I shall dance at a Fae's midnight ball

And never ever return again

To the world of critical men.

Demons

Do these abysmal demons

creep from Hell's furnace?

Surreptitiously

doggedly

unremittingly

Creeping ever closer

to warm flesh to be pierced

or stung with venomous barbs.

Your saline tears are my fountain,

my elixir of joy and ecstasy

as I wait with grim tolerance.

Time is immeasurable.

Hearing your wailing

for your long dead mama

in your delicious delirium.

Demented.

Hallucinating.

Calling me Demon.

It is always the way

without appreciation

for the gift I have given you.

Have I not promised you

eternal torment

damnation

and endless death?

First Light

The rugged ridges of ravines

and surreptitious sloped hills

where I imagine a beast

waiting

watching

seeking.

Inhaling the fetid musk,

my lungs cry out,

bitterly aggrieved

by toxic fumes

in a world 

conquered by Man.

What beast will not

lie down before me?

My weapons are precise,

my aim acute,

thriving on dominance.

I attest to this.

I am a primal killer.

My mistake 

was sleeping under the stars

and believing they were mine

because I counted them.

And the serpent 

crept into my bed

like a lover.

Letting Go

Clutching you tightly

against my beating heart.

Am I crushing you

with my hunger and need?

I am but a hollow haunt,

heart throbbing with desire

to ever keep you.

Yet I release you

as the silt of burnt ash

into the gloom.

Weeping black tarry tears,

spilling life's blood.

Crying out to you

with the craven song

of an extinct bird.

The empty cremains

of wailing corpses

suffocate the air.

Futilely, I inhale

the frigid hollow

of my icy sorrow

and I swallow

the darkness.

 

Linda Sparks has several books published. She prefers writing horror and dark fantasy as well as science fiction. She served as editor for Valkyrie Magazine. She is currently working on two horror novels.  She lives in Florida.