Posts Tagged ‘horror’

Right well, think it’s fair to say I’ve taken just a little bit of a break from blogging over the last couple of years but exciting times are upon us once more and the need to write and generally waffle seems to be back in abundance.

Anyway the intention is that I’ll be adding some new content on here again in the coming weeks, expect it to be a little dark, possibly a little emotional at times to but that’s the way life is at times I guess.

As well as writing my musings on here following the Completion of ‘The Masonic Plague’ finally, and a few busy months of editing. Me and co-writer extraordinaire Anthony D Redden have decided to give the book its own page to allow you to follow us, help us and generally have a good waffle with us as we embark on the torturous journey of trying to get the blasted thing published.

So please follow us on our new page ‘The Masonic Plague’ and we look forward to receiving all your questions, queries, critique and we invite you to share a laugh or two with us on our journey as it’s sure to have some ups and downs for sure.

Speak to you all again soon.

Jon

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Velvet-Dreams-Jonathan-Martin-ebook/dp/B009JUVNNU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1421331246&sr=8-1&keywords=velvet+dreams+-+jonathan+martin

Ok here’s something a little more racey for a Bank Holiday evening. Hope you all enjoy the read. I’ve also popped an audio link at the end for those of you who prefer your poems read to you 🙂

Have I Found Her?

A seductive smile,
A cursory glance,
Caught up in the moment,
Lost in a trance.

Pulse quickly racing,
Heart beating fast,
So out of control,
Have I found her at last?

Leading me forward,
To a room at the back,
Door slams behind us,
As she starts her attack.

Kissing me softly,
Caressing my face,
As I hold her tightly,
In passions embrace.

Clothes on the floor,
Form our amorous bed,
Bliss enslaved moans,
Echo inside my head.

Control long surrendered,
As she takes what she wants,
I’m her willing victim,
Baiting her lustful taunts.

Writhing in pleasure,
In Delectable joy,
I could live forever,
As her loving toy.

Then pain penetrates me,
Blood starts to stream,
My love I will join you,
In immortal dream.

Have I Found Her – The Audio Link:

Well as I write this it’s gone 2am and I should probably be thinking about getting some sleep, but I’ve been struck down by a bit of late night inspiration so thought I’d leave you with a little tale before bed.

A Gargoyle’s Tale

The stone Gargoyle gazes down on the churchyard. A role now dutifully performed from it’s spire side residence for what had now been the best part of a hundred years. For the most part of its meagre existence its presence had only been given a glancing thought, gifted by a mourning father, mother, sister or brother or on rare occasion a newlywed husband or wife. Simply an ornate gothic sculpture, cold and soulless.

A witness to every joy and sorrow held within the hallowed walls of this powerful religious symbol. A silent watcher. Forever learning. Studying the make up of man, of woman, of human weakness.

Evening falls. A child cries weeping for his fallen mother. A struck down victim of life’s cruel game. The bus didn’t see her and by the time she had seen it, it was already too late, still she had the presence of mind to push her little boy to safety, she had saved him, but she’d paid the ultimate price.

‘Hey child!’ The boy alone in an empty churchyard surveys the area clearly startled. He forces back his sobs as he gazes around in a paralysed fear, ‘Who’s there?’

‘My child I am Gargoyle, look up and you shall see’

Staring up the child sees the weathered stone sculpture, lifeless and grey. The boy screams out again unbelieving ‘Who’s there, where are you?’

The Gargoyles voice echo’s on the wind ‘I have told you, you have seen, you simply choose not to believe. You miss your mother, I’ve seen you here before. I can make her breathe again, would you like that? Would you like to see your poor mother breathe again?’

Confused but hopeful the child looks up and stares once again at the motionless figure ‘Yes, I wish for that every day, but how? How could that happen?’

The Gargoyle growls softly ‘How can a carved lump of sandstone speak? The how is unimportant. I can make it happen, you can see her again. Just a simple trade, If you agree I’ll give my soul for yours and in return I will breathe her new life? The choice is yours?’

The child wiping the salty tears from his eyes looks at the humble grave of his poor mother. Without thinking, excited by the prospect of being reunited will his fallen protector he agrees and then all goes dark.

Moments pass. Finally the child gently re-opens his eyes to see a small boy standing by the side of beautiful young woman, a woman he instantly recognises, he strains to scream her name ‘Mum’ but no sounds are heard, no words are spoken. The child seems familiar, it’s him, how can this be. The stone gargoyle weeps dry tears as his mother takes her new son home.

THE END

Night night & Rest well…

Greetings Blog, well I figured seeing as I’ve got this thing up and going I should probably post some new stuff. If you like what you read and fancy indulging in some dark themed poetry please feel free to check out some of my older stuff in the ‘My Books’ section where there’s 3 Poetry Anthologies available to download from Amazon for a truly bargain basement price 🙂

For the lazy ones among you here’s an audio link if you prefer 🙂

Hope you enjoy and please feel free to post any feedback, good or bad it all is worth a ponder. Rest well…

Behind the Porcelain Face

Behind the porcelain face
Lie the tears of a broken doll

Crying in silence
Drowning in despair
Binded from movement
With no-one to care

A picturesque plaything
An inanimate toy
In a glazen clay prison
Devoid of all joy

Watching on frozen
With no words to speak
An unseen stranger
A long forgotten antique

No end to the torment
No hope to be free
All dreams long shattered
By a mystic decree

An immortal existence
Paralysed in reform
The permanent calm
in an everlasting storm

This porcelain plaything
Cracking from the inside
On a chair left perched
Forever put to one side