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The Legend Of The Vampire Rose (The Vampire Rose: Part Two)

Poetry By: ReflectingeyE
Fantasy



The second part of the 'Vampire Rose' myth. A tale of Love, blood and vengeance. Be wary of the night my friends.


Submitted:Feb 12, 2007    Reads: 167    Comments: 3    Likes: 0   


Within the mists of time and age,

Are many tales of woe,

And though many are now told today,

Some still remain unknown.

One such tale that is forgot,

And buried in times debris,

Is the legend of the 'Vampire Rose',

And all she came to be.

This lady of the darkest night,

Mistress of men, temptress of all.

Her power seems quite limitless,

For all will beckon to her call.

Her victims slain throughout the years,

Number many thousand men,

For lust makes them all foolish sheep,

Who'll gladly follow to her den.

The night falls still at her command,

Her presence felt for miles around.

Unseen by the naked eye,

Her footsteps fall without a sound.

Those who know her hide and pray,

Those who don't soon meet their end.

Hypnotised by her vixen sway,

Under her spell they will descend.

But one mans blood calls out to her,

Much more than she can bear.

Her quest's to claim his life for hers,

Thus end her dark despair.

Until that journey's run its course,

She'll rule the night with pain,

For if she cannot have her love,

Then none shall love again.

For when Lizbeth woke that fateful night,

Her bed was cast of� stone.

Her family's crest above her head,

Her company, all rot and bone.

Her love was lost, her life had gone,

Gaiman San had claimed his prize.

Now she lay in blackest silks,

Adorned in her demise.

Though many years have long since passed,

She still hears her lovers prayer.

She watches as he mourns his loss,

His loving wife no longer there.

And Lizbeth longs to hold him close,

To end all his loss and pain,

But she cannot reveal her dark rebirth,

Else break his heart yet once again.

She now sits atop the ageing spires,

And scans the ground for prey,

And she would feast all through the night,

And be far from here by light of day.

Her jet black hair sways in the breeze,

And gently strokes her face.

Her form is tightly hugged by her dress,

Of leather and of lace.

Her beauty is without reason,

And her cruel torment drives her plight.

Don't stray too far from the glow,

Of the days surviving light.

So if you plan to go out my friend,

Be very wary of the night,

For she hides within the shadows,

And she may be there tonight.





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