Night Vision: Poetry to Pierce the Darkness

Even in the blackest hour of your soul's oblivion, poetry will light your way along the path.  Inspiration is the bright spark that will lead you home through the wilderness.  Poetry is my heart's true home; the province of faeries, lovers, and madmen.

Follow the Dark Road of Your Dreams

Photography and Poetry by Indigo Skye

Author's Notes:

My newest poetic work, "Queen of Night," is an excerpt from a novel I'm working on.  The working title is Rachel Bixby, Superstar!   This novel's main character, Rachel, is an average girl with no particular talents- until the day she picks up a cello.  Discovering she's a musician at heart, she moves to Las Vegas with her best friend to join a jazz combo, and discovers that the city is infested by vampires.  Soon, she discovers she has another, darker talent- hunting the undead in the city that never sleeps.

The poem, "Invoking the Crimson Queen," is written in honor of Jezebel. I personally find her to be the most interesting woman in the Bible, and am currently working on a book that tells the story from her perspective.

Queen of Night

I rise and drink the night

a river of blood

glut myself on their crimson agony

sharp silver pain of teeth upon neck

and then...

o glory

That song, the blood-drums pounding, and I am here/

made new

I drink their memories, their desires

I drink...

and now I speak Portuguese

I know a hundred names for love

I can play the piano, I know my Bach by heart

Rise, Queen of Night!

Queen of crows and bats

She wears a grey wolf-skin, leads the pack in the hunt, running the night

to kill or die,

She/ howling

North wind in her face,

She/ running to find the hart that leaps,


too slow...

and then collapses .

My teeth against his hot throat, blood pulsing

he is frantic with fear

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.......... dark sweetness here

the treasures of the night more precious than your gold, your sparkling diamonds

I prefer blood-rubies, fire-dims, moonstone,

crimson roses on starched white shirt-collars

his cigarettes and cologne-

so sweet!

Sweet as his jittering fear, his nervous sweat

as he follows me out back to the parking lot and

in the darkness there

I hunt, too

feeding on a glory, a glut of boy-blood freshly spent.

Invoking the Crimson Queen

O Jezebel, sweet jewel of the night.

Your smile glitters like diamonds magnificent

You dance with the wind, graceful and sure of foot

You bow and sway like a reed

Miss Wonderful- Mysterious

Story-spinner sublime

Enchant me

Weave your web round my heart

O your tiny hands, your shining black hair

They flash and spin while you tango through my head

When you walk, church-bells sigh at your beauty

Their peals awe-silenced

Sorceress, oracle…

Do you see me?

I do.

Did you create me to tell your tale?

I did.

My Queen, I thank thee.

Walk a little closer.

I will whisper all of my secrets into your ear.

We will laugh together.

We will dance through fire,.

We will hold hands tightly across many miles, a gulf of years.

Together, my daughter, my sister, we dance!

Play your blue drum and call to me.

Sing your truth and call to me.

Write your heart and call to me.

Light a candle. Whisper my name.

Smile when the moon is full and I shall appear.

Too long have I danced in silence…it is time for me to speak, to sing.

Time to shout aloud my tale to the world that hushed me up,

Buried me in a book of lies.

Now all must be told, for I have at last found willing ears

Open heart

A pen in a hand quick enough to catch all my words.

Dancing, ever dancing… even walking you seem to dance.

Your body is strong, compact, tense with expectation.

You speak a language only I can fathom

Telling your fascinating secrets

I am goblet; you, sweet wine

Your voice is honey, sweet oranges, ripe raspberries.

I am a blue wooden door.

You knock softly upon my heart

I know it is time to open; to aid your passage.

My Queen, I can refuse you nothing.

My Queen, you have stolen my heart.

The Mermaid's Lament

Laughing breasts bare,

Glistening tail thrashing the sea


The moon, her mirror

Its wavering light pulls at the slack tide of her heart.

She cannot help but shout her joy.

A flower of song blooms strange beneath

The impossible, star-choked sky,

Dooming sailors to death,

Ships smashed against blue stones.