From the Mist Read online

From The Mist

  By Bonnie Mutchler

  Copyright 2010 by Bonnie Mutchler

  Cover design copyright Joleene Naylor 2009. All rights reserved.

  Cover Fonts by Larabie Fonts (https://www.larabiefonts.com/ )

  Other poetry collections by Bonnie Mutchler:

  Inside the Worm

  Egg of Orlin

  **********

  Adrina

  Released from time, I did not dwell

  In mankind's world, but in a spell

  With fair Adrina by my side,

  Above the moon, beneath the tide.

  And in a swirl of garden stars

  We cleansed our wounds and bathed our scars

  In perfumes gathered far from here,

  From universe and atmosphere

  Of places then unknown and tossed,

  Where hearts beat deep and souls were lost.

  We did not breathe except for love;

  We did not eat, nor speak, nor shove,

  Nor dance, nor read, nor write, nor care

  For life or death, for foul or fair.

  And we were all there was to be,

  Emotions, dreams, eternity,

  Combined and twisted, fire and sun,

  Adrina mine, and we were one.

  Like fetus in a mother's womb,

  Our love confined us like a tomb

  And we were held like spider's fly

  Too much in love to live or die.

  **********

  Beauty’s Only Flaw

  The voices called like wind song

  Through the night of fuerand

  And hobbugs screamed from dewy leaves,

  Rising up above the sand.

  "Don't touch me now," she countered,

  As he reached toward her hand.

  "I cannot bear to feel the flesh

  Of any Dorfairin man."

  Silently he turned his face

  To hide her harsh words' sting

  And stared across the miles

  To the city's flaming ring.

  The shattered buildings toppled,

  Blackened by the angry smoke

  That hung above the ruins

  Like a giant, billowed cloak.

  Screams, still fresh upon his ear,

  Desp'rate pleas he would not hear;

  The struggles and pain endured

  To bring her highness here.

  He'd turned his back on his kin

  And betrayed his king and land

  For one sweet, gentle smile

  And a touch from her soft hand.

  Yet now she sat in safety,

  Far from danger's steely thorn,

  She mocked him and she cursed him,

  Her lips now dripped with scorn.

  Her savage mouth was twisted

  And her small pale hands were claws.

  She was cruel, she was hateful,

  She was beauty's every flaw.

  Slowly he rose to his feet

  And, sheathing his great sword,

  Turned his back and walked away

  Without uttering a word.

  She fell back in the deep grass

  Laughing at the fool he'd been;

  Then she heard the tramping feet

  Of many marching men.

  As she peeked above the green,

  Her heart was filled with terror,

  All around her was the army

  Of conquering Dorfaror.

  And none was there to save her,

  None to stay the forceful hand,

  There was no pity for her

  As they passed her man-to-man.

  And when they finished with her

  There was little left but shell,

  She was grateful for the sword

  That thrust her soul to hell.

  **********

  Bithra

  Call from the grave, voluptuous;

  Call from the grave, my own.

  Though alluring and tempting

  I know you too well,

  So leave me the hell alone.

  Beckon me, love, I won't answer.

  Beckon me, sweet, I won't hear.

  Though your claws are still grasping

  And clutching my soul,

  My heart has grown cold, my dear.

  **********

  Bumper

  Bumper's in the hallway

  Bouncin' off the walls.

  Said he couldn't hear me,

  Said he couldn't talk.

  He was out 'til seven,

  Even though I called.

  I would bash his head in

  If he weren't so small.

  Bumper's on the stairway

  Makin' lots of noise.

  I can't keep him quiet,

  His big boomin' voice

  Crackin' all the plaster,

  Wakin' up the boys.

  There'll be hell to pay now,

  He's disturbed their toys.

  Bumper's on the ceiling,

  Bumper's on the floor,

  I don't think I've seen him

  Quite this way before.

  Neighbors are complainin'

  Cops are at the door.

  I think I'm a-leavin',

  Can't take him anymore.

  **********

  Corva

  O come my love, make me your prey,

  Your angel face a mask by day,

  But in the darkness dwells your heart,

  My demon sprite, my bloodless tart.

  Sing me your siren song of hell

  And weave around me horror's spell,

  Make me your victim, willing slave,

  Then lay me empty in my grave.

  **********

  Eight-Inch Scratches

  "There's things that walk at night," she said.

  "Be careful where you stray.

  There's things that lurk out in the dark,

  That hide in light of day.

  I've seen their forms in pitch-black night,

  Darker than the shade,

  And smelled their breath as foul as death

  And sharper than a blade.

  I've heard their whispers, moans and growls

  When night has grown quite late,

  And passing by a twisted hedge

  Or through a wooden grate,

  I've paused a moment, heart in throat,

  To hear their gutt'ral strain."

  She turned towards the crystal orb,

  Then muttered once again,

  "There's many things that walk at night,

  Beware of paths you tread."

  But he just laughed and sauntered out

  Without a single dread.

  A high-pitched scream shattered the night,

  She raced across the floor,

  But all she found were eight-inch scratches

  Gouged out of the door.

  **********

  An English Murder

  Poor Lucy lay upon the bed,

  Her face was blue; her eyes were red.

  "I'm feeling rather dead," she said,

  And then she did expire.

  The Colonel knocked the fire out

  Then laid his pipe next to the stout.

  "You know," he said. "I really doubt

  I ever will retire.

  The guests won't go and I am host,

  So raise the lager for a toast,

  Here's to men and here's to ghosts

  And Lucy in the bed."

  The maid screamed loud and feeling faint,

  Fell in a chair. "Oh my, how quaint!"

  Murmured the city's Social Saint,

  "For someone to be dead."

  The doctor, who'd been playing whist,

  Struggled from within thei
r midst

  And heading for the stairs, he hissed

  "I do not work for free.

  No matter where I go," he said,

  "I have to tend to live and dead.

  Why can't I just have fun instead?

  It isn't fair to me!"

  "Well, Lucy didn't plan, you know,

  To die because the night was slow

  And if you people'd ever go

  You'd been at home instead."

  The Colonel swiftly led the group,

  As up the stairs they grimly trooped

  And once inside, they formed a hoop

  Around the huge old bed.

  The doctor felt her pulse and chest,

  Then lay his head upon her breast.

  "She's quite done-in, would be my guess.

  I didn't hear a sound.

  Besides her face is ghastly blue.

  I think that's probably a clue

  And the scarf around her neck is, too.

  Please leave things as they're found."

  The doctor rang the magistrate

  And half the town was at the gate.

  The inspector came fresh from his plate,

  His napkin still tucked in.

  "And what have we?" He asked aloud

  When he'd broken through the crowd.

  The man on guard stood tall and proud.

  "It's murder, sir," he grinned.

  "And half of them's got motives, clear,

  From loving son to husband, dear,

  At least that's what the gossip's here

  Have spread around the town."

  "Well, let's see what we have to do."

  The guard stepped back and let him through.

  The inspector paused to wipe his shoe,

  His face was in a frown.

  The Captain met him in the hall,

  Shook hands, then leaned against the wall.

  "I haven't been to bed at all,"

  The Captain growled and yawned.

  "I've put the suspects in the den.

  They gave their statements to my men,

  Though I know you'll wish to speak to them.

  By gum, it's nearly dawn!"

  The inspector checked the murder scene,

  Then saw the maid, who still looked green,

  And grabbed a cup of tea between

  The coroner and the staff.

  Then looking through the Captain's notes

  And all the statements he had wrote,

  He smiled and unhooked his coat

  And gave a little laugh.

  He found his way down to the den,

  As cockily he sauntered in

  Among the family and friends

  To introduce himself.

  "By gad!" the Colonel sputtered loud

  And all heads nodded in the crowd.

  "It's time you showed yourself, I'm bound!"

  His fist banged on a shelf.

  "Control yourself now, my good man,

  I think I've uncovered the plan."

  Then looking at his notes at hand,

  He cleared his throat and spoke.

  "Young Master John is quite the lad,

  When mummy threatened to tell dad,

  About his escapades, he grabbed

  Her scarf, and mum he choked.

  The Colonel took his Indian knife

  And stuck it neatly in his wife,

  And ending their domestic strife,

  Rejoined the party here.

  Then Mrs. Socialite did run

  Up to the room with trusty gun,

  And sure her rival was undone,

  Returned for cheese and beer.

  In Brother Ben did softly creep,

  Concerned she might talk in her sleep,

  He took a pillow from the heap

  And pressed it on her face.

  The conservationist came next,

  With all her fur coats he was vexed,

  So taking up his trusty axe

  He chopped right through her lace.

  Yes, poor, poor Lucy is quite dead

  By many hands, as it is said.

  She should have stayed awake instead

  Of rudely going to bed.

  Bad manners often do rub off

  And frequently there is a cost.

  Now if these handcuffs you'll all doff,

  We're off to jail," he said.

  **********

  Fantasia

  In quiet beside the ferny pool of Syla

  Grows the heather, fragrant, flooding the whole glen,

  Dwell the fairies and the elves in endless splendor,

  Here in secrecy, untouched by thoughtless men.

  Sheltered by the misty walls of Endruiel's mountains

  Mystic warriors still, in legend, fight and fall.

  Stays the course of time, for nothing ever changes

  And the ancient folk of stories still enthrall.

  Here life and death are not what matters,

  Glory, loyalty and honor hold the sway,

  Truth will always triumph over every foe

  And the just will always live to win the day.

  Beneath starlit skies the fires of Airin flicker

  But the flames shall always burn eternally,

  For there's spells that can't be broken by mortal man;

  There are things he can't destroy with word or deed.

  **********

  From a Warrior's Lady

  Stand before me, mighty warrior,

  With your sword raised to the sky,

  Shriek your battle cry, my darling,

  'Til it shakes the clouds on high.

  As the raven's scream in terror,

  With their black wings on the rise,

  Let the enemy before us,

  Turn away and hide their eyes.

  Valinn's curse has come upon them,

  As your banners fill the dawn

  And your warhorse paws the hillside,

  Snorting fire that hell has spawned.

  With your wild heart a-raging,

  Flaming, burning in your breast,

  Bahthis' blessing will protect you,

  As the foe you boldly press.

  Kiss my hand and look away, love,

  Lead the charge across the field,

  Where the armies clash and thunder,

  Fight and die, but never yield.

  Let the infidel lie broken,

  Crushed and dying in the mud,

  'Til the sun set on your vic'try,

  Let the gray moor run with blood.

  Then return to me, my darling,

  From the field, all fresh and gory,

  Riding triumphant on your steed,

  Magnificent in glory!

  **********

  From the Mist

  From the mist there came a rustle

  And the clanging of the bell.

  Somewhere far off in the distance

  Rose the fog like ancient spell.

  Rose the danger, rose the sorrow,

  Rose the cold and blood wrist,

  And the faces of the strangers

  All come stalking from the mist.

  **********

  Gaston

  Supper was at seven,

  Gaston came at eight.

  Sat down at the table

  Lookin' for his plate.

  It was bare and empty,

  Supper's in the grate.

  "That's what happens," says his wife,

  "When you're a comin' late."

  Gaston flung the plate down,

  Threw a holy fit.

  He kicked at the table

  And broke his toe to bits.

  He hobbled to the bedstead,

  Still shakin' his great fist.

  "That's what happens," says his wife,

  "When you act like a twit."

  Gaston tore the sheets all up,

  And then he broke the bed.

  The heavy post came crashing down


  And bopped him on the head.

  It knocked him unconscious,

  He lay like someone dead.

  "That's what happens," says his wife.

  Then she ran off with Fred.

  **********

  Genocide

  Tell me, do the angels fly

  Underneath the boiling sky?

  Heaven's door flung open wide,

  Wrath of God and genocide.

  Mountain of the skull will cry,

  Golgotha's vengeance satisfied.

  Man of flesh, where will you hide?

  Wrath of God and genocide.

  Gather bodies, pile them high,

  On an altar to the sky.

  Make anyone your sacrifice,

  But God can see through your disguise.

  Forget friends, betray brothers,

  Laugh at love, forsake lovers.

  Think you still can run for cover?

  God will know you from all others.

  It's your turn the angels say,

  Where do you stand on Judgment Day?

  Angels recognize the stain,

  Mark of death on Sons of Cain.

  Tell me, do the angels fly

  Underneath the boiling sky?

  Heaven's door flung open wide,

  Wrath of God and Genocide.

  **********

  Head

  "Don't call me in the dark," she said,

  "I'm scared that I might lose my head.

  There doesn't seem to be much use

  In nailing it when it comes loose.

  The nails don't hold and staples bend

  And tape and glue fall off the ends."

  I tried real hard to look at her

  But when I did, I lost my nerve.

  "I think there's something wrong," I said,

  But when I looked, she'd lost her head.

  Above her neck was empty space

  And bolts and screws were every place.

  Broken nails and staples, bent,

  I wondered where her head had went.

  I looked around, what more to say?

  I haven't found it to this day.

  **********

  I N M

  I've known you since the start of time.

  We touched our souls, our hearts, our minds;

  Two lives eternally entwined,

  And I am yours and you are mine.

  You are my love, you are my breath,

  My slave and master, life and death.

  For in the darkness, in the flames,