Thursday, 31 July 2014

Affection Scorned

She was my heavenly ray of ghost-like light
Illuminating my reflection through the night
Yet our child, Misunderstanding ripped to parts
The dawning dancing of our once constant hearts
Now I alone, shrouded by November lawns
Of drifts of snow, pure and cold like midnight swans
The mover of the autumn leaves is but cold
The coffee shops are no more quaint, but old
She blasted me with wild winters rage too soon
Making deaf the dancer, mute the stirring tune
The gods rejoice, my destiny is shuttered
In labyrinths where her soul never fluttered
     Let ravens gorge her flesh, pick her bones apart
     In that cold graveyard, her solitary heart.

Friday, 13 June 2014


I hear the music of your soul
My distant mermaid on your shoal
Singing sweet in solitude
Siren sounding your prelude
  I call to you across the sky
  To evoke your endless sigh!

Like a sailor in the night
Seeking beckons of the light
I pass into regions of you
Tossed where windy weather blew
  Open wide your velvet door
  Let me shipwreck on your shore!

Three Witches


In an ancient Irish forest, three witches live in an hoary cottage, guarding an underground temple to their evil god Pan.  Occasionally, they abduct residents of the nearby town of Dunsmir, to offer their victims soul in exchange for forbidden knowledge.  This is accomplished through the use of a dream-drug, which allows them to contact their sleeping victim, and cause him/her to sleep-walk into the forest, where they are captured and taken to the cottage.
  The scenario begins with an investigator beginning to experience terrible nightmares involving a horrible witch appearing in their dreams.  Over the course of three months, these nightmares increase in intensity, until, one night, the victim awakens to find that the horrible witch is actually in their bedroom, leaning over them.  She takes them by the hand, and slowly leads them down the stairs, through the deserted streets, and into the forest.
  When they reach the cottage, the three witches lead them, through a trap-door in the floor, down 555 glowing red steps, into the Temple of Pan, where he is sacrificed to the dreadful deity.  All this, unless the investigators can stop it.

Dream One

From the midst of ordinary but unsettling dreams, the investigator feels the intrusion of a probing foreign consciousness, which calls their name from a distance, beckoning them with the promise of forbidden knowledge.
  Suddenly, the dreamer finds himself by a stonework gate on the edge of a forest at night, looking into the face of the hideous witch, while squawking crows circle around.  The witch takes the dreamer by the hand, and, when they enter through the gate, the dreamer awakes, terrified.  He is aware that the dream really happened.

The Wilted Rose

In shadow of the rose I stand
Where garden turns to drifting sand
And sunlight on the flowered vale
Leaves the blossom soon and pale

The wedding bloom whose petals wrecked
By your own hand in white gown decked
Behold, my friend, the wilted rose
Behold her soon, for thus she goes

The Wedding Feast

Evening fell upon the wedding feast
The guests were blessed by the priest
They toasted as the banquet spread
And drank deep to the newlywed

Then dancing on the dewy lawn
She trembled like a newborn fawn
While the twinkling stars bespoke
Their solitude ’fore dawn awoke

She said my Christ I choose thy cross
My souls ruin is Ishtar’s loss
She mixed a poison in her wine
A crown of thorns from tangled vine

A dream where paper lanterns hang
Between the trees when midnight rang
To lead her to the wedding-bed
And bid her soul lost to the dead


When dawn arose her tender breath
Did not awake the bride from death
Her spirit wanders through the deep
And dreams in the abyss of sleep              

Copyright Jeffrey S. Merk 2013

The Moonlight and the Flowers

We sat together on wooden bench
Roundabout leaned encircling trees
I drank immortal stream to quench                
With deeper thirst from deeper seas
    My parching lips
    On rocking lees!

Could we live our days in this garden
In our solitude and hand in hand
Wildly dancing on some poets’ pen
With no whisper of another land
    To mark this
    Garden grand?


I love the flutter of all you do
Your soft and supra normal powers
Please do not begrudge my loving you
Through the tender-petalled showers -
    It was the moonlight
    And the flowers!

Copyright (c) Jeffrey S. Merk 2013

Pick your Flowers in the Cemetery

Remember when as little child
You gathered flowers in the wild?
What has been lost from by-gone days?
How did the light depart your gaze?

A rusty train rolls down the track
With little flags the union jack
Flies free, and in the crowded cars
They stare out through the metal bars

A war is raging in your mind
Will you be good, or feigned kind?
Look out upon this broken world
Where thoughts like trash in sharp wind whirled

You stand between two concrete towers
Looking for forgotten flowers
You saw the sign then closed your eyes
Believing all their dreadful lies:
    Pick your flowers in the cemetery!

Copyright Jeffrey Merk 2014