Catalina.

Twas deep into a moonless night when sleep was hard to find,
The man tossed restless on his bed and tried to dull his mind,
He lay and stared at shadows gathered darkly in the room
When movement caught his vision coming subtlely from the gloom.
Within the blackness he could see the strangest swirl of light
And sweat broke out upon his brow as he felt a stir of fright,
Then from the darkness She appeared, a girl so young and fair,
And tho' twas dark he plainly saw the starlight in her hair.
A smile was playing on her lips as she moved across the floor,
And he had the oddest feeling that he'd seen this girl before.
Finding voice, he asked her who she was and whence she came,
Coming beside him the girl replied "Catalina is my name."
As she shed her flowing robes, not another word was said,
He felt her flesh and drank her scent right there within his bed.
All too soon the dawn arrived, the sun shone on his face,
And tho' he searched hard for the girl, she'd gone without a trace.
When evening came around once more and light began to fade,
He yearned with fever in his blood to repossess the maid,
And Catalina came to him just as the night before,
In burning need he shed her robe and strew it on the floor.
Every night became the same, her hunger and his need,
Like a drug within his veins he was obsessed with greed,
Months went past within a haze, the man grew tired and weak,
His friends enquired if he was ill, to them he wouldn't speak,
Soon he didn't venture out, his health was now quite poor,
But still at night Catalina came demanding even more.
Then one day while all alone he came across a book,
Twas a journal he soon found, so sat to take a look,
Written many centuries past, its pages yellow with age,
He felt himself go rigid in shock as his fingers turned a page,
There before him he could see a portrait clear and bold,
Twas Catalina without doubt, and the book her story told.
His ancestor had met his death through Catalina's wiles,
She'd slowly drained away his life twas said during her trial,
Put to death tho' she had been, it had not ended then,
For to his bloodline she was still a curse on all the men.
He realised then that he would die, it would not take that long,
The only way to beat the curse was if he could stay strong,
So to a church he found his way and finally he could rest,
Regaining strength as he prepared to take the final test.
Confident now he would resist, he foolishly made his way
Back home where it had all began that distant, fateful day.
Sometime later his body was found, barely bones upon a chair,
There was no obvious cause of death - just a perfume in the air.

The Legend of Beowulf

There once was a kingdom that lived under strife
Beset by a demon that caused loss of life,
So many poor people were slew by this beast
who came under darkness to enjoy his feast,
They knew him as Grendal and quaked at his name,
For nothing could save them at night when he came,
The King, he felt powerless to deal with this plight
And just like his subjects, he cowered in fright,
Inside his castle he shook in his bed
While outside was Grendal who murdered and fed.
Then, one day a stranger rode into their midst,
To speak to the King was what he did insist,
He'd heard of this demon and his perchant to kill
And claimed he could slay him as he had great skill,
The King, he was doubtful that it could be done,
But the stranger called Beowulf would not deem to run,
At nightfall that evening when the beast was abroad,
Beowulf was determined he would fall by his sword.
So did it happen, by the moonlight that night
Beowulf and Grendal met in a fierce fight,
Like all brave warriors Beowulf struck with great calm
And with one clean slash severed Grendals right arm,
The beast fled in terror and Beowulf stood tall,
The King, in his honour, hung the arm on the wall,
All night they revelled and enjoyed a great feast,
But daybreak saw Beowulf ride out after the beast,
And when he did find him, in the name of His Lord,
He slew the beast Grendal with the blade of his sword.
But the fight was not over, for to Beowulfs surprise,
There sprang from the water a hag of great size!
From deep in the water hidden from the bright sun,
She'd watched as brave Beowulf had struck down her son,
Now mindless with sorrow, she would make the Knight pay,
And Beowulf would fight hard for his life this day,
The Sea Hag fought wildly, and although she was strong,
She was no match for Beowulf or his sword sharp and long.
And so it is Legend and is told to this day
How Beowulf the fearless made the demons both pay,
And the Kingdom he rescued did thrive from then on,
And the people were happy now that Grendal was gone.

The Wish

I remember it so clearly, 'twas a balmy day in May,
when laying down upon my bed, I wished my life away.
Life had not been kind to me, my wife had died that spring,
And with her went my very soul - I had lost everything.
I didn't want to stay alive, I yearned so to be dead,
And when I opened tired eyes, He stood beside my bed.
At sight of him I jerked alert, heart pounding in surprise,
I felt so insignificant before his awesome size!
Dressed in black from head to toe, I could not see his face
Yet knew his gaze was fixed on me, prone rigidly in place.
With trembling voice I asked of him what did he want of me?
I swear I heard him chuckle, though his mouth I could not see.
"I heard your plea," his voice replied, "It allowed me to come through."
He laughed again. "For I am Death, and I have come for you."
Then, quite suddenly I could move, and sprang up in the bed.
"That can't be so!" I almost screamed, "For see, I am not dead!"
"You wished it so," he then replied, "And I felt your deep desire,
Come with me and forsake this life, dwell in tongues of fire."
And then I saw his awful face and could not stop a moan,
Where skin and flesh there should have been was white and mouldy bone!
Twas in that instant that I knew how precious was my life,
How important were the memories that I held of my dear wife,
And Death, he stood and grinned at me, then reached with bony hand,
"Come with me," he said again as my legs fought to stand.
When his fingers gripped my wrist there was no more to say,
I touched the crucafix I wore and started then to pray.
With my words there was a flash, and Death had disappeared,
Taking with him all my dread and thoughts of life I feared.
So next time you are feeling down and think your life is through,
Don't wish for Death to end it all - for He may come for you!

Voodoo Meg

If you travel up the mountains
where the buzzards soar so high
You'll come upon a wooden shack
that seems to touch the sky,
And if you dare approach it
with a soft and stealthy tread,
You'll see the bones a'hanging
from the trees with crimson thread.
And then, if you're still bold enough
to tiptoe closer still,
you might approach a window frame
and peer in over the sill.
Inside you'd see a wall of shelves
with jars of many things,
Like dried bats blood and spiders legs,
and worms and insect wings.
And if you want to see some more,
as foolish people do,
You'll likely see a roaring fire
with cauldron in plain view.
Perhaps by now you're feeling scared
as you know who lives here,
The voodoo woman known as Meg,
the one that people fear.
Who for a price will make a brew
to torment a poor soul,
or make a waxen effigy
to melt on a hot coal.
She curdles milk with just a glance,
misfortune is her gift,
and if she has you in her sights
she sets your wits adrift.
And voodoo Meg would have no qualms
if she should catch you there,
of turning you into a frog,
she really would not care!
So I would turn around my friend,
some things are best not known,
For if you don't, you could become
another hanging bone!