dark and stormy

it was a dark and stormy night
in the dying of the year
my minions were abroad
spreading misery and fear
and the taste of rising panic
sitting sweetly on my tongue
fed my anticipation
for the blood of the young
of those not yet corrupted
by the fickleness of fate
the choler and the bile
and the sourness of hate
and I dressed myself in shadows
as I set out on the chase
to gather up the losers
in the night’s unequal race
for who would stand a chance
not the living or the dead
if they should happen on me
when I have not yet fed

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  1. With this poem I decided to see what I could do starting with one of the most cliched lines in fiction 😈

    • Oh! the first line is always what Snoopy used to type, lol. When I saw it I couold see him on his doghous, hehe. But I doubt he got as far as you do with his writing… ! This is nicely draculesque… πŸ™‚
      and how has this day been treating you?

      • Thank you, I didn’t aim for Dracula-esque, but I think that’s pretty much the default state of dark-and-stormy-nightism 😈

        the day has been reasonable, i think, how was yours? πŸ˜€

        • Or werewolfesque, maybe, unless werewolves don’t like to get their fur wet… πŸ™‚
          My day was pretty good, thanks, got a few things done that needed doing and had a nice evening class with my nursing students. I’ll be glad when the school break comes tho, it’s been a long quarter. πŸ˜•

  2. damommza

     /  November 30, 2011

    When I read “it was a dark and stormy night” I literally salivate! Any story/poem that starts that way is right up my alley and this one does not disappoint. All you need are the moors, some fog, a lone wolf howling on the wind and red eyes staring from behind the rocks…”blood of the young”…Dracula ifinkso! 😈


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