Immortal Verses

Sorry for the lack of updates, but writers block continues and I don't have much good stuff to post, as I'm trying to keep most of my articles, stories and poems to where they are being published in a very polished form. It was also my birthday this week, so I was being lazy and spending time with my family and friends. :)

Several weeks ago, I received a letter from Poetry.com, where on a whim I had entered my poem Sea Song into their monthly poetry contest. It was chosen as a semi-finalist, and is set to be published in the poetry anthology Immortal Verses this spring. I don't think I won the 1,000 dollar prize, though. But that's okay!

Hopefully I'll be able to write well again soon, and my successes (though small at this point) will continue.

Dancer Daughter

Written for Writing.com's February Pretty As A Picture contest. It's not posted there yet though, because I'm too lazy to put it in bitem format right now.


Down my cheeks slip my blackened tears
The only prize for my dancing years
All the pain as I strove for the perfect dance
Forgotten because of a stolen chance.

Jealousy poisoned her graceful hands
As she watched my dancing grand
She was anointed with holy water
And I the whore’s dancer daughter

As I twirled and leapt on stage
In the most perfect dance of my age
Her green-eyed monster broke free
She took my dancing joy from me

Under my ribs slipped her tiny rich knife
As my corset drank my leaking life
I beseeched the dancing girl
She answered: “You are scum and I a pearl.”

She skipped into the darkened wings
And with a twirl she started to sing
Leaving me to die in the fading stage light
And haunt the ballet each glittering night.

Specter Glass

Written in response to Writing.com's contest Pretty as a Picture, and to this picture:

Darkened muses adorn the looking-glass
Hollowed and dead pretty girl faces
Watching me from the burnished brass
Crying their tears and leaving demon traces

They were the three, the very first three
Whose blood and skin I claimed
They cried their tears with their plea
Beautiful, and murderer I was named

The other beauties writhe behind me
Their specter-bodies my mirror haunt
Begging for me to set their souls free
But they keep my form from growing gaunt

Each time I look to the mirror
I hear their screams and see their deaths
With their pretty bodies, to perfection I am nearer
And their suffering extends my breaths

For over a hundred years
Blood has been my wine
My skin soothed with maiden tears
And rosy flesh the meat on which I dine

Pretty murdered girls haunt my sight
Wherever I may glance
But I will not submit to the endless night
Nor lose my beauty to time’s eternal dance.

Princess Pale

Wait for me, my princess pale
Wait for me in your false sanctuary
Cower within night’s concealing veil
My caged and broken albino canary.

Wait for me, quivering princess pale
I will come when the sunlight dies
Thirsting in the black for your fearful wail
And reveling in your nightly cries

You belong to me, my sweet princess white
With your raven locks and aphrodisiac tears
Your anguish and hate is my delight
Forever will I feed on your midnight fears

Each cry for mercy and every scream
Catalysts my mania, princess white
You are my release in this darkened dream
Though I wield a shining sword I am no knight

Princess pale, princess pale
Open your eyes and look at me
Beautiful princess, so small and frail
Of vice and pain, we shall never be free

Gaelic Girl

What has happened to my bright gaelic girl
Where has the shining love in her eyes gone,
The bounce and flaming color in her curl?
Only echoes remain of her Irish song

Oh, for her to dance and laugh in dawn's rays
And splash again in the cool summer springs
I would leave her and be alone all my days
And bring to life her lost, battle-slain king

In the heart of my emerald-eyed maid
I am not, nor will I ever be so graced
With the loss of her lord, her life will fade
Such despair the sunny girl has not faced

I am left to a lonely life of crying
While she, because of her woe, is dying

Morgon Luvall, 2005

Sea Song

The song of the sea whispers in the night
A melody of death and despair
For the ocean might shine as a glorious sight
But its waves are made of unanswered prayers

The water glitters like a thousand jewels
Sapphires that are tears of countless lovers
Who hoped to heaven like such human fools
But the sea never returns the souls it covers

One day it is gentle as a loving maid
And other times a bloodlust emerges
Those that crease its surface on crusade
Are at the mercy of fickle surges

So all who brave the crystalline waves
Cross your chest and quietly pray
For the sea, on a whim, can be your graves
And in the blackened depths your limbs decay.

Morgon Luvall, 2006