My second poetry book, “Dragon of Alcanmore,” was born after I watched a documentary on Syphilis in the Victorian ages. I know, whatever writers get their inspiration from. Seems like a weird little fact, but it also set the fantasy-like scene that reminds me of the 19th century in this book. Just like with my first poetry book, the poems together tell a whole story.
I use the help of AI for punctuation (I do change some things) and the help of Grammarly to do my own edits, while they don’t replace editors I do have to make do with free-to-use tools currently.
Dragon of Alcanmore – Poetry Book no. II With Audio Book
Hornswoggler
Oh, papa, dearest of mine,
How come your eyes so clouded, your heart so cold?
They cannot fathom how I cannot marry the Duke of Butt-Sniffing.
He said he had slain the Dragon of Alcanmore,
Single-handedly struck him down from his throne.
Are you really that unseeing?
Did a crow peck your eyes while in sleep?
The stories of his fictitious exploits,
They are known to all the ladies
Across the land and beyond the seas.
Yet you offer my hand in marriage
To this,
This bloody Hornswoggler.
The thought of sharing a bed with him makes me gag.
I would rather spend my life with cockroaches,
For I would never share a bed with all the women
That bear his illegitimate children,
For he never learned to wrap it in sheep guts.
Oh Please, Papa, No
Oh Please, papa, no!
I can not down the thought of his slimy hands upon my breasts.
How could you wager with my happiness?
You, who never won on a horse match,
Sell my soul to a dim, flickering hope,
That you hold your blood close to your heart.
My papa, who had carried me,
With my arms tied around your neck.
And ever since I was a tiny lady behind your back,
Playing hide and seek with the world so frightening,
I had thought that you were the mightiest of them all,
A knight without his shiny armour,
Keeping me from harm.
Why have you fallen deaf to the pleas of your only daughter?
Oh God,
Oh Lord,
Why have you forsaken me too?
Laced my heart,
Tied my hands,
With barbed wire.
Father, Help Me!
The white candle on my bedside table
Makes the drapes on the northern window
Glitter like the foam of the sea.
Even if the light in this desolate husk of mine
Seems to be fading with every gasp I take.
Oh, papa, so cold is the sea,
So quiet is the song.
And the salt is burning my eyes,
Yet to close them
I have no strength.
You know how I loved the dead calm touching the horizon,
And yet,
Petrified of the sirens have I become,
As the stones around my waist keep me floating upon the bottom.
Meliabeth
Meliabeth, my dearest, my only,
How my heart it stings in its cage.
Did the faerie mother of the forest get to you?
How many times will I have to scold you
Not to wander in the dawning of night?
Oh Meliabeth,
My needle in a haystack,
Can you tell that the Lord above has gone deaf?
And Orelia has been howling for two days straight,
Sniffing the air as if you were near?
I think we both have gone bonkers,
As I can hear the soft creaking of the floor,
Just like when you were here,
Sneaking in the hallway.
Oh dear, my heart is sinking with fear,
It has been five days since I heard your voice,
Angry you were, but God do I miss that so,
And today they found a lady behind the tree,
The one you leapt from into the muddy shore,
Almost breaking your ankle as the water was too shallow.
Forgive Me the Sins of My Blood
Oh Lord, forgive me the sins of my blood,
Take me to the gallows,
Burn my soul,
But let her walk through the pearly gates.
My sweet, sweet girl,
Oh, what have you done!
I knew you loved the sea,
But still,
My heart,
It screams for justice for my little innocent girl.
Now she lays in a nameless grave,
Behind the church she went to ever since
She was a young lass.
Oh God,
Oh Heavens above,
Why won’t you let her sleep next to her mother?
She was a pious girl,
Even if she detested the thought of marrying any man that didn’t read.
God,
I swear with my hand upon my chest,
The yearning to learn,
The words she weaved,
An eloquent girl…
But now the fire that burned, that was her soul,
Has gone out like the candle on her bedside table,
Wick burnt down to the wax.
Please take care of her soul,
Please,
I beg of you!
Lord, You Are the Worst of Them All
They say my name is tarnished
And that my life I should walk
With my eyes on the ground,
My words fallen silent.
An arrangement was broken,
Her name has become a curse.
The old hag from across the street is looking at me
As if I were a cat that pissed on her carpet,
Forgetting that her son was the cause.
Oh Lord, how could I not see?
I sent her to her doom,
How could I have been so blind?
Oh Lord,
I sent my beautiful girl to the wet, cold sea.
Forgive me, Meliabeth.
I want to paint the city walls with the colour of your eyes,
Tell the whole world,
My girl,
She was the sweetest of them all.
Oh, could someone please ease my heart?
God, where have you gone?
Why can you not hear me?
Are you there?!
I am screaming at the top of my lungs,
A prayer to wash her name from their lips,
Cleanse this dark, thick air that suffocates me.
Oh Lord, you are the worst of them all.
If you were there,
Why would you take her away from my arms?
God, Where are You Hiding
The whiskey burns my insides,
Yet I cannot find you in the bottom of the bottle.
Oh God, where are you hiding?
How many more women do I have to invite to my chamber
To forget the gaping hole in my chest called nothingness?
And I blame you for letting this happen to me.
So let them whisper behind my back,
Let them see my pain.
Their teeth gnawing into my skin, leaving my wounds wide open,
For all to see that I have been cursed,
I have paid my debts.
For mingling with the fallen women behind the Rorian tavern.
With my hands upon their silky soft thighs,
Making it to the gates of heaven,
No trace of an ailment,
Only a bite of a mosquito,
A drunken laughter.
Hands digging into my skin,
I thought they must have been cold.
And so I have been cured, praise the medicine,
Praise the scientific
But my heart remains a dead lump in my throat.
I need some more numbing from this life I detest.
But women,
They steer clear of me,
As if I was a big fat rat staring them in the face,
With blackened eyes,
Begging to spare a tiny speck of the sweetest bread,
A sip of their wine,
A forgiveness for my sins
Through their hips around my waist.
God Has Truly Forsaken Me
As I walk the streets with a metal nose, hiding my scars,
No liquid metal could help me, no cream, no salve,
For my soul, it has rotten inside out.
Lord has fallen silent and cursed me with a barbaric disease
That eats away at my flesh.
Soon I will be with my lovely Meliabeth.
Oh, can you hear me?
Listen to me, my child,
Papa is coming to hold you.
And maybe it is as they say:
God has truly forsaken me,
Left me to fend for myself,
Walk this earth without a heart.
Like I washed my mouth from his name – the holy bastard.
And maybe, I will go to hell, and maybe my soul is doomed,
And maybe I will never see my beautiful girl again,
This, my only fear,
Upon the gruesome death that awaits me.
Daddy?
I hear a distant call of a girl in distress,
As if in delirium I cannot feel the pain that has been gnawing at my bones.
My insides have turned on me,
My rotting flesh stuck to the sheets,
And I cannot see the faces that pass me by,
As if I am swinging somewhere in between my life and my death.
And I do believe that this is my pay for sending an angel to her demise.
the Punch
“Yes, my dear?”
And the man in gray covered her eyes with the back of his hand.
“What happened to the uncle?”
And led her out of my room.
Links To My Work
Poetry: Dragon of Alcanmore, Poetry of a Love So Cold.
Stories: Six-Sentence Stories, Short Stories, Romance and All That, Elves and Fantasy
Posts on music that I love are here.
My band can be listened to on YouTube, Spotify and other streaming services.
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