Monday, October 29, 2007

Little Halloween Triptych, Part I

The Flying Dutchman Redivivus?




Come…
Come…
Come…

What whisper summons me?
Is it the wind
in drying leaves?
Come to me…
Whispers of doom,
or hoot of owls
or howls of wolves?
Come…
I am coming, yes…
The whispers grow,
and whirl, and growl…
In their cold embrace,
I glide
on the dark shore,
in noctambulic walk.
The sea - a lake of tar -
sends rumbling surf,
torn veils
of phantom brides,
onto the sand.
Come to me…
From far, from near,
a song of death
and love
entwined.
I am here…
I see the ghostly ship,
its masts, and spars, and sails
bleak statues of decay,
no living soul on it
yet full of empty souls.
My home,
to make of thee?
A stir in me…
Run, I could
still run away!
Too late,
the boat slides
nearer.
My bride… Come…
Ghosts
ply the oars.
And at its bow
I see your eyes of fire
bear down on me
with sweet
infernal
love.
Like in a dream,
I step into the waves.
Come…
I’m coming…
My robes are heavy
chains held by Okeanos.
Unearthly arms of fog
extend to help me.
How proud you are,
tall at the prow,
your gaze of embers
lights your
handsome face -
a beacon
in my night.
Come quicker… Hurry…
But what is this?
I falter,
my eyes still
in your hypnotic grasp.
Shouts, vile barks,
thunder of guns
awaken me, while
torches light the sand.
The sea’s aflame.
The spectral boat
is fading,
multitudes close in.
A step
and then another,
The sea embraces me.
Come…
I almost touch your hand.
Strong voices call my name,
voices alive,
not undead…
My struggle’s vain
I’m dragged away
pulled from your ghostly grip
by warm live arms of men.
I know, my darling,
all is lost,
till next time…
And as I close my eyes
against the burning night,
carried afar,
your waning whisper echoes
on my face,
Next time…


Copyright © Vesper L. All rights reserved.




(The legend of the Flying Dutchman has several versions. In one of them, Vanderdecken, a Dutch shipmaster of the 17th century, while rounding the Cape of Good Hope in a gale, swore before God he would enter Table Bay or be damned. His blasphemy condemned him to sail those waters forever. In Wagner’s homonymous opera, the Captain is allowed ashore once every seven years, to seek the love of a woman and thus redeem himself.)

Can you tell out of which movie the above picture was taken? Get the answer on November 1st.

11 comments:

Absolute Vanilla (and Atyllah) said...

Brilliant ghostly imagery of longing and haunting, Vesper. Beautifully, creepily and poignantly handled. I really enjoyed that - will there be more?!

No idea at all about the movie clips!

Bernita said...

Ooooh, lovely.

c.s. said...

wow...this is so dark...so good...the choice of words is simply fantastic! and the new look sets the mood for this piece of pure poetry!

are you promising more ghostly tales? have you decided to turn to the dark side?

love it here! :)

Ello said...

That was very cool and spooky! GReat imagery!

Vesper said...

Oh, Vanilla, you're spoiling me! :-) Thank you kindly! xoxoxo

Bernita, thank you so much!

Oh, C.S., thank you from my heart! It's only a disguise in honour of Halloween... :-)

Ello, thank you very much!

jason evans said...

This had the feel of a resting spirit coaxed from the grave and drawn across a dark landscape. Very effective!

As for the scene, I have no idea, but I'll guess The Seventh Seal or Nosferatu.

Vesper said...

Thank you, Jason!

bunnygirl said...

Very dark and seasonally appropriate! I'm hosting a Halloween Fiction Carnival on my writing blog today. Can I add your link?

http://ampfiction2.blogspot.com
uhamp (at) yahoo (dot) com

Vesper said...

Thank you, Bunnygirl, and thank you for visiting! You can certainly add my link if you wish. Thank you again! A Halloween Fiction Carnival - that's really very interesting...

Munkey said...

Fantabulous.

Vesper said...

Munkey, thanks a million! :-)