Stories Told of Lovers Lane.

A short light hearted poem for a autumn evening as we progress to Halloween. Hope you enjoy.

Down country lanes where brambles once grew,

In the shadows from the still night moon,

lovers danced with bodies entwined,

lusting for passion in the darkest skies.

Shadows now stand in the way of men,

the wolf lurks stalking from his den.

The undergrowth is thick and bears a trace

of flesh from wounds, from the human race,

and the lingering aroma known as blood.

the delicious red nectar on which our life survives.

thick and rich with a taste so sublime

as to make a man’s world turn upside-down.

From back and forth, from dawn to dusk

what wonderful senses full of wanton lust,

and passion and such anger rages from the beast within,

for those who travel to seek his skin.

His casket is guarded underground,

his loyal followers stand tall and proud,

as their master cries into the cold night air,

and the dark night clouds swiftly rise to meet his grin.

For all who venture out at night,

are blind and careless to walk in sight,

of the cloaked one flying to great heights.

And whose speed can not be matched upon the ground

for it is pumping hearts that he seeks to hound.

And the woosh that his cape turned into wings

instils the fear of God in all living things.

On moonlight nights when the clouds are heavy,

and shadows fly across the silvery moon,

could it be that witches frolic,

or Frankenstein seeks your doom?

The werewolf knows his friend and foe,

the banshee steps out to glow,

and the songs of sirens from the sea

laugh in the face of men,

abandoned contemptuously.

Their sensual presence a temptation indeed

as they welcome those to take heed.

The sea is a cold, deep and dark grave

for those men tempted, sinfully encouraged to be brave.

Halloween Eve, the night that stories are told,

of ghosties and gouhlies, and vampires unfold

to put fear in the heart of all human kind.

Neither garlic nor a crucifix can save your fate

for those who take no notice of his shape.

No survival shall they receive from the stories that they read,

or from the lessons to be heard

and ignoring the spoken word.

For these heinous creatures of all time,

with imagination are left to fester in our minds,

Are they truth or myth or just superstition,

or maybe just a colourful story rendition?

To scare the life and soul from those who stray,

down lovers lane again today.

Mark my word, on which you can trust,

If it is to fill your appetite for sex and lust,

stay indoors tonight, and seek your thrills in the bedroom,

coloured pretty and light.

For if you stray or wander into the dark tonight

It may be your body we find in day light.

knarled and stripped of all your desire,

clothing stained, to be burnt on the red coals of fire.

But from the tooth or fang as the stories are told

of monsters who are free to roam the world alone.

Seeking your life to engage in the dance,

down lovers lane once filled with romance.