Poetry

A Halloween Tale

Come and sit near the hearth, and I’ll tell you a tale
that you may find hard to believe.
I stayed in this house where we’re gathered tonight,
to celebrate All Hallows Eve.

I remember this house, as it is now,
with regal curtains and drapes,
oozing sumptuous wealth and tears,
with undefined shadows and shapes.

I came here with a gentleman friend,
whom the host invited to dine.
His waxen-faced wife laid out the best food,
and we drank the finest wine.

These folks were an ancient family,
of the people of the night.
To preserve their youth and longevity,
they shunned exposure to light.

That night as I lay awake in my room,
I heard some very strange sounds.
There were creaking doors and floorboards –
someone was creeping around.

Next day my friend looked drawn and pale.
He’d had a very strange dream.
It made me wonder if our congenial hosts,
were not as kind as they seemed.

In the deepest recesses of my mind,
I knew things weren’t quite right,
the fact that the pallid pair slept all day,
and only arose at night.

At dinner, I recalled our hosts had said
their blood had to be renewed.
I could not recall if either one
had eaten any food.

I decided to explore and found
a room with a coffin inside.
On lifting the lid I choked on the stench,
where maggots squirmed and writhed.

Shocked, I ran to find my friend.
I found him on his bed,
his lifeless body white and drained.
My friend was cold and dead!

I feared the vampires would return.
I searched for a place to hide,
lest I become their next bloody meal,
or the second bloodless bride.

Next, I recall floating t’wards the void,
in limbo ‘tween life and death.
Then I awoke from a delirious sleep,
with a coarse and rattling breath.

I understood the craving of that
sad resident and his wife,
to seek the essence eternal and
quench their thirst for life.

I sense you think me rather odd –
old fashioned, and yet, so young.
Come close, and I will show you all I know,
but first,
let me taste you with my tongue!

© Martha Magenta

Indie Affair Magazine Oct 5 2016

 

autumn-comes-early

Autumn Comes Early

Autumn has come.
I see it in your icy eyes –
you long for leaving.

Summer’s hazy heat has passed.
Now, October’s winds sadly sigh
through golden trees.

I knew one day you would go,
but how was I to know
it would be so soon?

As the last russet leaves
fall to the ungrateful ground,
nostalgia haunts me
like evanescent shadows cast
by a waning moon.

© Martha Magenta
Cafe Aphra October 3 2016
http://cafeaphrapilot.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/autumn-comes-early.html

 

Sunset

 

The Great Artist

We sit and watch the perfect day’s end.
Pageants of color as the sun descends,
Floats precarious with sanguine glow.
Flourishes of light, love, and life bestows,
Paints the evening sky with wanton hues,
Crimson, scarlet, yellow, and blue.
The flamboyant artist thus emblazons
Heaven then dips below the horizon.
Painting iridescent waves of the sea
That dance and glisten in a final spree,
While dark shadows stretch like lazy dreamers
Basking in deep red sunset streamers.
Now as darkness spreads like indigo dye,
A myriad stars adorn the night sky.

© Martha Magenta

Spotlight: The Great Artist by Martha Magenta
Beaux Cooper   January 23, 2016
http://www.beauxcooper.com/2016/01/spotlight-great-artist-by-martha-magenta.html

Whispers  August 17, 2016

 

 

Inner Space Odyssey

I wish to be free from the heavy weight
of guilt, and shadows of sin and hate.
Slave to desire, I see I’m weak.
Escape is not the flight I seek.

On the edge of the abyss, I meditate,
and know I must begin a great
journey of the inner soul,
the only way to become whole.

My inner space odyssey begins,
as I am drawn deep within –
an inward journey where I’ll find
jewels in the monolith of the mind.

I feel a pull I can’t resist
to where time ceases to exist.
Everything becomes a void.
All I know has been destroyed.

I feel a sense of peace instill,
as the empty void begins to fill
with all the scattered parts of me,
and broken pieces of humanity.

I am the sentinel of my mind,
that only a dissident can find.
I am all parts of infinity,
stretching through eternity.

Deeper, I’m drawn into the depths,
creating energy with my breath.
I see Venus, Jupiter, and Mars…
and…Oh… my God it’s full of stars!

© Martha Magenta

The Reverie Journal Feb 2015

 

From My View…
The face of love is an open flower
that greets the morning sun.
It is the wind that chases leaves
around in circles just for fun.

The face of love is the shining moon
in the dark blue, star-flecked sky.
It is sun-kissed leaves in spring,
and the fledgling learning to fly.

The face of love is rain on the earth,
the stillness of lakes, a subtle breeze
like a butterfly’s wing;
the song of blackbirds in the trees.

The face of love is the long-lost child;
the heart that yearns for years,
to hold, to care, to love the face
remembered now through gentle tears.

© Martha Magenta
Whispers April 17 2016

 

 

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About marthamagenta

Martha Magenta lives in Bristol, England, UK. She has a passion for herbalism, gardening, Earth and the environment, animal rights and veganism. She has worked for ActionAid, and Friends of the Earth. She has been writing poetry for several years. More recently she has studied haiku and related arts. Her poetry, haiku, senryu and tanka have appeared in a number of journals and magazines. She collects her published work on a blog: https://marthamagenta.com/
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