The Marriage of Samhain and Pomona (Old Poem)

A piece from this time last year. Little Halloween history poem for y’all…

 

The Marriage of Samhain and Pomona

 

I stumbled through all that fall foliage

To perform my duty as the last druid

And wed them before the full moon.

 

Ceremony aside, I aimed to find

A vampyre or witch to lie with

And send up magick sparks

Next to all those escaping bonfires.

 

Goal in mind, I was rather taken back

When asked to proceed to the bedding

And assist in some manner personal.

 

Samhain, brute he be

Wrapped me in his crimson arms

And asked this favor of me,

Bed Pomona in place of he.

 

She was too foreign a taste

A bitter little drink,

not what he wanted in a wife.

 

For her part, Samhain told me

This was her idea,

She did not want his stains on her robe

Nor the wild in her.

 

Thrice I declined, and thrice

They pushed and pulled,

Groping hands moving in waves

 

The moans of our lovemaking

Sent the beasts into a frenzy,

Such divinations I’ve never seen

As when Samhain forced Pomona on me.

 

They stuck an apple in my mouth

And a spit through my back,

Let a fire take the mattress

 

What a feast, at the midnight wedding

What beasts, my vampyre and witch

What release, this consumption of my flesh

What an end to the last druid priest.

The Play (Prelude & Act 1, Scene 1 (Poetry))

I think I got drunk and tried to recreate Midsummers Night’s Dream by the Bard as a younger man. 

Prelude

 

Enter, stage left,

A procession of gnomes

Miniscule green legs bound in woven leaves,

Bare chests rattling,

Grasping desperately for air

As they chant

 

“What won’t you do,

what won’t you do,

what

won’t

you

do?

Yes, yes, you,

Tell us, tell us,

What won’t you do?”

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There (Novel Excerpt #2)

Him/Here

 

I am 23. It is 2016 A.D.

 

I attended a University. I graduated with a degree in literature and Film Studies. I work at a kitchen in a bar. The honesty of the statement “my parents death is the only reason I have money today” hurts me more than the fact my parents died.

 

What was once the cute “oh silly drunk college kid” stage is turning into alcoholism and a severe lethargy.

 

I struggle everyday to make sure I look like I just don’t fucking care. I really really want to take some acid, it’s been almost three years. None of my creative efforts have been acknowledged by, anyone. That’s mostly my fault.

 

The women that come into my life have each left a slight perfume ghost, haunting my apartment and lips. The one I have now is using me to cheat on her boyfriend. Or make him jealous. Or something. There’s something heroic in my willingness to aid her. Chivalry incarnate.

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There (Novel Excerpt #1)

The following is parts 1 & 2 of a novel I am currently working on entitled “There”. Told from three perspectives in two different dimensions with no chronological order, it’s a tale of two young people forced into an ancient magical conflict between the King and Queen of a magical realm. Pan’s Labyrinth meets any classic bildungsroman. 

Him/Here

I fail to grasp the necessity of my continued existence. Tracing my own footsteps, following a shining light along the same path every year, ebbing and flowing between two separate people. My life has been perfectly dichotomized, and I smiled when I selected the blade that split me.

 The snow hasn’t changed in this place in 20 some odd years. The pines standing tall, full of hubris, with snow cascading down. The wrinkled old apple tree’s, whose fruit stained my family’s lips for generations, look gothic and dead, adding a sense of morbidity always lacking during any other season. Winter has dragged his massive palm over this part of the world, and this orchard in particular.

Winter had dragged his massive palm the same way over this orchard for a long time.

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