The poetic works of Stephen Charles Long.
This is the fifth book of poetry in his Mystic Series. Wrought with emotion and
esoteric mysticism, it is poetry at its best.
Samples ~
Castillo de
San Marcos
My journey
was long, my destination had been St. Augustine.
My
directions were wrong and now my plans had changed.
I found
myself lost seeking shelter for the night as a storm arose.
It was two
AM, an hour before dead time at Castillo de San Marcos.
I had not
known, death stalked the corridors, of the ruins and castle walls.
Dark shadows
of negative souls dwell within every room and hall.
As I learned
later, apparitions, phantoms preoccupy moonlit courts.
Disembodied
voices cry out in the dark, so go the reports.
Poltergeist
and revenant, mesmerizing suggestion?
No question
now I had found a haunted location.
A touch, a
trace the spectre supernatural so eerie
as to make
its mark on the living in the urge.
The fort and
castle had been built in seventeen sixty-three,
a guard with
a lantern walks the rampart there and is
seen.
As the storm
hit, I figured the chapel was best
Maybe the
only place that I could find rest.
So, as with
all mislaid plans I waited anxiously.
As the
lightning flashed there stood the Padre.
He shook his
head and transparent he stood
crucifix in
hand all covered with blood.
The sound of
chanting and a flute filled the air,
it was right
then I knew, I did not want to be here.
The wind
bent the trees in a blasting gale
my hair
stood on end when I heard a yell.
The last
thing I remember in the pelting rain cascade,
was Spanish
soldiers marching... in parade.
It was a
night of hell and so morose
a stormy
night, at Castillo de San Marcos......
Stephen
Charles Long © 2009
Stephen's note: this is a real place where these
events have been reported .
Enchanted
Princess
She is that
which never leaves me.
A Cinderella
of pauper dreams.
Of the
kingdom that could be.
No brave
knight am I
just a
lonely soul
dying
quietly inside.
That magic
look
Enchanted
Princess.
From loves
storybook.
In silent
aspirations
solitude
consumes me.
I live
without her passion.
Oh God to
find,
that
hideaway with her.
Would ease
this tortured mind.
If I could
only tell her,
oh my love,
my dear love.
I have your
glass slipper.
Stephen
Charles Long © 2009
English
Asylum
Dark sky so
grey
I stepped
upon the lot.
The weather
beaten buildings decay
some empty,
some not.
Fall leaves
lie around
the cold was
in the wind.
There were
graves on the high ground
far from the
main buildings.
In an
English asylum,
out near the
coast.
Walks a man
with a lantern
some call a
ghost.
I came at
request
a witness to
be
to
investigate it,
or they
investigate me.
I stayed the
night
waiting,
watching.
Till the
morning light.
I saw
nothing.
As I walked
away
I turned
back again.
There was a
man at the gate
with a
lantern and waving.
Fading
Consistence
far into the
distance.
Where the
whippoorwill sings
with
constant persistence.
On a moonlit
night...
Deep in
forest dark
I walk alone all night.
My journey
to embark,
upon this
endless flight.
On a moonlit
night...
Trees sway
and bend
in a
struggle to be free.
It is a big
wild wind
that blows
over me.
On a moonlit
night...
On a moonlit
night
I heard you
say.
It would
give you delight
should I
wish to stay.
On a moonlit
night...
There, back
there
in that far
distance.
The echoes I
hear
fading
consistence.
In a Time of Dreams
It was a
time of dreams...
I walked in
from the streets of violence
to a garden
path of cobblestone and hope.
The journey
had not been long I guess
in an angry
world trying to cope.
It was a
time of dreams...
Not
sweetness and rainbows, but truth.
That
everlasting fact of ugliness that bore
witness to
souls of indifference proof.
That was a
soulless shore.
It was a
time of dreams...
Where I met
a warrior standing
with weapon
at the ready.
To be slain
or slay, just waiting.
With aim
true and steady.
We watched a
man approaching
from the
waters of the sea.
Till at last
he was standing
on the sand
looking at him and me.
It was......
a time of dreams
The warrior
took aim gracefully
without
pause or second thought.
When a glint
of light caught him and me.
A cross on
his robes brought us to a halt.
It...it was
a time of dreams
A padre with
rosary on his waist
a warrior
with weapon in hand.
And I.. the
poet task to taste
even record
and understand.
The three of
us walked the shoreline
until the
light of dawn and beyond.
For we did
not understand at the time
what fate
had brought us to bond.
It was a
time..... of dreams
The sun
descended before us
until a
purple calm and twilight fell.
Where
majestic starlight kept its distance
like soft
spoken words through a golden cell.
In a time of
dreams....
Stephen
Charles Long © 2009
One rainy
night in Paris
A storm was
approaching
as I was
packing
to catch a
late night flight.
Privacy it
seems was lacking.
The bellman
was at the door
he had a
note in his hand.
I handed him
a franc
and closed
the door again.
My friend
knew
I was
leaving Paris soon
and asked me
to meet him
down in the
taproom.
I was
thinking of his note
it had
seemed mysterious.
La vie peut
changer dans un instant.
Une nuit
pluvieuse à Paris.
I sat down
at the bar and waited.
When a soft
sweet voice said to me
"salut
Texas" mon amour.
"Vin"
I told the maitre d'.
She sat down
beside me,
took my
hands in hers.
She studied
them closely
as if
looking for an answer.
She looked
at me
with such
gentle eyes.
Then said
she was wrong,
and she
apologized.
I was tired
and it was late
yes, I still
loved her.
It had
nearly ended in hate
I did not
wish to be bitter.
Tous pour
l'amour,
yes, all for
love.
We talked
about hearts
and the
subject there of.
Another
bottle of wine
as the storm
came closer.
She won my
heart again,
God help me,
I love her.
I missed my
flight tonight
you know
this is now serious.
Tous pour
l'amour, yes, all for love.
One rainy
night in Paris.
One rainy
night..... in Paris.
Stephen
Charles Long © 2008
la vie peut
changer dans un instant = life can change in a moment
tous pour
l'amour= all for love
Une nuit
pluvieuse à Paris = A showery night in Paris
Vin = wine
The Autumn
Mist
As the
clouds passed over the moon.
weaving
patterns in the sky.
It would all
change soon
with a
whispered goodbye.
Without love
what is there
a life of
emptiness?
So I left my
heart here
walked into
the autumn mist.
Before the
rain could come
she was all
but gone I guess.
Now I'm all
alone
here in the
autumn mist.
Yesterday is
the truth
today finds
no rest.
Tomorrow
waits for you
somewhere in
the autumn mist.........
Zombie Road
Harbinger of
the unknown
waits just
down the road.
all the lost
souls
that the
land swallowed.
Countless
children gone
death took
them you see.
Their tiny
spirits remain
and wander
among the trees.
Restless in
death and lost
not knowing
where they are.
You see them
sometimes
through the
eyes of the camera.
Into the
desolate woods
it feels
like you are followed.
Encounters
with shadows
down old Zombie
road.
River of
Death some have said
of this
supernatural node.
Beware of
the darkness
Down on old
Zombie road.
On Haunted
Zombie road...
A true story...
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