Michael Pendragon

Poetry

 

 

I Walk with Death

I walk with Death

Down quiet cobbled streets

Or country lanes that swirl

Through Autumn hills

Where ev'ry tree

In gypsied splendor greets

My dark-eyed love

Whose slightest whisper fills

The brittle air with wisps

Of ancient song.

 

I take her hand

And lead her through the day

As flowers fade

And shadows race along,

Attend her footsteps

As we make our way

Through tumbling leaves

Of crimson, brown and gold.

 

We watch the farmers

Harvesting their grain,

Their sickles glist'ning

In November cold,

Jaws tense against the air

And muscles strain

Till cornstalks strew the field

Like last night's tears.

 

I smile at Death

And softly trace her cheek

With fingers hardened

By the passing years;

Gaze deep in dancing eyes

That long to speak

Of dreams like fallen leaves

Beneath the rain

That stings the barren land

With Winter chill;

Forgotten lovers' words

That strive in vain

To span the rolling centuries until

Fresh marigolds

Anoint the April breeze,

And apple trees swing low

Their blossomed boughs

As farmhands scrape the rust

From last year's plows,

And lovers' vows

Break through the frozen sod

And brush away

The ghosts of Winter snows,

To spread their fledgling leaves

Like newborn gods.

 

Death watches all,

Complacent and serene

As mothers watch

Their barefoot children play;

As hand-in-hand

We stroll from scene to scene,

Past singing brooks

The color of the day,

Past wooly bison

Primal, broad, and proud,

Or laughing oaks

That stretch across the sky

As though to pluck

The sunlight from a cloud

While willows croon

A noontime lullaby.

 

I walk with Death,

My quiet, gentle love

And marvel that

I'd ever feared her glance

Or worried that

Her tender touch might prove

An ending to this lilliput romance,

This fairy fable

Fondly fashioned 'life,'

When in her eyes

I gaze beyond the night

And know her as

My mother, lover, wife --

A promise of unspeakable delight.

 

 

 

Spider Bites

 

You came to me like petals on the breeze

On gossamer wings of dandelion grace

With twilight sighs that set my soul at ease

And silver moonlight smiles that lit your face

With all the wonder of a summer night

 

Your whispers threaded sinews thru my dreams

And wound their sultry webs about my eyes

'Til like a child I wove delirious schemes

Of happy-ever-after colored lies

And lost myself in visions of delight

 

But girls with eyes of garden spider green

Can clip a young man's fancy in mid-flight

Then slip away on spider legs unseen

Leaving him but a deadly widow's bite

A kiss that lingers after lovers part

 

With crafted words to set a soul afire

You taught this idle daydreamer what bliss is

Caught fast within your cobwebs of desire

Then vanished like the trace of moonlight kisses

And left your spider bites upon my heart

 

 

 

 

Lady in White

for Emily

 

LEGEND:

 

In the banquet hall on the second floor

of the Flanders Hotel in Ocean City, New Jersey,

hangs the portrait of a ghost --

a beautiful young woman known only as "Emily."

 

Soft starfall curls that flare like fishers' nets

To sweep the sea of yestermorning tears --

Deep auburn fireblush cast from lost sunsets,

The faded afterglow of cobwebbed years

That floats down mirrored halls on barefoot nights,

Hums careless tunes from Summers idly spent

In windwashed strolls of coral pinks and whites,

Where breakers splash the salty savage scent

Of passion squandered, kisses rashly stol'n

Between piano notes and lemonade

'Neath lacy parasols, silk ribbons blown

Like colors 'long the pineboard promenade.

 

Pulled taffy clouds stretch murals 'cross the sky

Spread canopies o'er flowerpetaled crowds

Then pass like sailors' ghosts from days gone by

While ballroom curtains billow forth like shrouds

And playful spirits jiggle hotel locks.

 

I hear your laughter dance from room to room

Play peekaboo with paintings, antique clocks

Dimmed chandeliers where many a bride and groom

Drank to the coming years, spilled gold champagne

Pressed lips to blushing lips while voices rang

Echoed 'round stairwell walls and rang again.

I whistle oldensongs you gaily sang

On moonlit breezes bathing our July

In midnight splendor, cool as ocean mist

Touch painted fingers, meet your painted eye

And dream about a secret lovers' tryst

That reaches far beyond the gulf of time

As two lost spirits share one night of bliss ...

 

But dreams cannot survive this starcrossed clime
Where love has no more substance than a kiss

And wishes reap no bounty but despair

Your haunted world bears not the weight of mine 

Nor have I leave this mortal love to share

With one whose feet should tread but fields Divine --

Yet if these words might somehow bridge the span
That separates my era from your own

Know that somewhere in time there dwelt a man

Who love a Summer ghost he'd never known.

 

*****

 

 

FELLOW TRAVELERS

 

Death walked behind me yesterday
With silent step and mirthless grin
Death stalked me like a beast of prey

With eyes as black as sin

Death walked beside me yesterday

With hollow stare and stagnate breath

Death walked beside me yesterday

And scared me half to death

 

Death stopped beside me yesterday

When I grew tired and paused to rest

Death stopped with me along the way

Till I resumed my quest

Death passed before me yesterday

I shut my eyes, braced for his sting

Death vanished like the sun's last ray
But brushed me with his wing

 

Death walked beside me yesterday

Yet did his icy hand withhold

I knelt to pray 'neath skies of grey

And felt myself grow old

 

Death journeyed with me yesterday

Along the lonely churchyard hill 

And tho' each went his separate way 

His touch is with me still

 

 

 

 

Faceless

They still have eyes, at least

And, sometimes, teeth;

The heads alone still hold their wonted form

Like silhouettes in white or beige or brown ...

Except the eyes

That lock me in their beams

And look as though they'd like to speak

Or scream.

Sometimes I see their clothing hanging flat

Like printed cut-outs meant for paper dolls;

The reach for me

With mannequin arms and hands,

Calling my name from silenced mouths

In long-forgotten tone

Down hollow corridors that twist and turn

Like dead Minoan mazes --

Spiraling inward,

Falling back,

Ending a half-step sideways from where they began.

 

But in my dreams, I still can see them smile,

And watch the blush glance lightly over cheeks

That applebob with laughter at some jest

Played by a brown-eyed boy ...

In happier days

Before the darkness came

And fixed its horseskin blinders on my head,

As Old Man Time unveiled his licorice tooth

Devouring every thing I would hold dear.

Too soon, I know, the eyes will soften, fade

Like childhood snowflake breath

From window panes

While Winter mornings wash the world with white.

 

 

 

Michael Pendragon is an American writer, poet, editor, and publisher currently residing in upstate New York.  He is best known for having published a pair of literary magazines: "Penny Dreadful" and "Songs of Innocence & Experience" (1996-2005).  His published works include: "Much of Madness" - a novel; "Into the Night" - collected poetic works (1980-2010).  His writings have appeared in "Terror Tales," "Edgar: Digested Verse," "Enigmatic Tales," "Charnel House," "The Bloody Quill," "The Horror Zene," "Sanitarium," and over 200 others.