Jester’s Bride

The little bell jingles and jangles
hissing an alert
‘here he comes’
‘here he comes’
all bow to The Jester.
I see before me tattered lace,
my beloved is trying to outrun me
when will she learn that I am her master,
her commander,
the love of her life?
These little torments
slicing away at her life
her heart
her soul……
They will strip her of her sanity
cloaking her in my wedding clothes,
and she will forever more be mine.
Ruling together on golden thrones
her shackles will be diamond encrusted
her clothing the best tattered silks
her mind little more than a game I play.
Never mind the hollow eyes
the grayish lackluster smile
this love of mine adores me
and will some day bear mine child.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
Nov. 30/17
***I found the artwork via Pintrest on the internet. Artist’s name is David Ksomthing something. I am sorry I don’t have full name. I like his work.***
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The Jester’s Bride

Twisting and turning, the garden path swirls about.
Lost within the leafy maze
unsure whether those statues are moving
or if it is shadows playing tricks?
I can hear the baying of the hounds
and wonder, can they be for me?
I escaped from the prison of my mind
fighting my way back
from the depths of the madness
only to discover that there is no way out.
I whirl around, fear tangent in the air
my breath comes in brisk gasps
fear reaching out with blackened limbs
ready to encircle,
to entwine,
to capture me and pull me back.
Twisting and turning, the garden path swirls
and the Jester roars.
His laughter savage
as I am pinned,
beneath his silvered gaze.
There will be no freedom,
no relief
only a soul mired in anguish
the Jester’s bride,
captured and maddened,
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
Nov. 29/17

The Banshee’s Lament

A soft steady chant

a whispering whine

begins a slow waltz

erupting as the screams begin;

The Banshee’s lament.

Plucking at coiled hair

tears tracking down soiled cheeks

I can hear the soundless tune

that she has wept

for centuries

announcing our very own deaths.

Time and time eternal

we have tried to outrun

this family’s inheritance

of a crone sitting in the willow chair

keening and wailing

calling out souls to rest.

The Banshee’s Lament

a tale from the old country

brought forth in the new.

The song so seductive

blood falls apace

as I lay at her feet

my death to commence.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

 November 26/17

Deceptions Throne

Seated upon a throne of lies
brought to be
through the desperate desires of others
seeking a righteous change.
Voices raised in violent rape
shattering the illusions
of choice and freedom
turning back the hands of time.
Stand beneath the booming clock
unsure of which way to turn;
hesitant to accept the whispered promises
of the heaven to come…
if only you repent.
Repent of free thought
repent of opinions shared
repent of confidence
repent of all that is human.
OR
See him as he is:
Seated upon a decaying throne,
grasping talons
shredding silken dreams
silencing the screams of the devout.
The truth has been shown to the faithful
to those who demanded his ways.
Now they see that they are still what they always were,
food for the rich to prey.
Hell’s fires burn victorious and bright
tinting the world in a crimson red
and he shall bring about
the end of times,
so the prophecy has foretold.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
Nov 11/17

Time Eternal

Liquid lines 

moving through time eternal

strands weaving and warping

telling the same old tales.

Woe shall befall the King

proclaims the blinded seer.

Blood shall spatter the Good Queen’s name

shouts the sinister beggar.

Behold the chains binding the waif

bending her to knee and back,

leaving a hole in the fabric of being

as her lover clamors for return,

speaketh the Oracle.

Each saga the same. 

Each time a repeat of another

as each soul is reborn 

prey to the Fates,

who play them like pawns upon the chessboard.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

Sept. 30/17

Prophecies

Bones piled high

bleached white beneath scouring sands

time has turned for

each passing of the hour.

Tides flow in and ebb out

casting upon the shores

detrius found deep from beneath

magic and wonders not seen

since the last turn of the clock.

Tears leeched from their souls

tasking glories to be replaced

upon cobble stoned streets

that have been forgotten.

Prophecies abound and stories flow

of change to come once more.

 ©Jay-lyn Doerksen

September 28/17

Succubus

Sultry seduction

walking through alleys of neon.

Scarlet shoes crush shards of glass

as she carries on.

The stench of tar, low brow

follows in her wake.

Tattered gown and vile detection

her glance behind assures I am hidden.

Slithering through the shadows

a haunted man, a ghoul caught

Ensnared by the succubus.

I only sought to be free.

How could no one see?

I mused, I mourned, for her eyes are blood red

Horns curl high above

but none see but a broken whore

close to falling.

My hand curls round the blade placed at my waist

as I follow further along the path

noticing not the fading light

the lack of commerce or even friendly folk.

Within the glade she first found me

we danced a delicate death

I knew now that there was no recourse

That all I could do is submit

for she is mine…….

and I am hers……..

to feed, to soothe, to be.

Forgive me father.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

June 20/17