Vampire Poetry

Much to my surprise, there is a lot of vampire poetry out there. A lot.

Vampire Poetry

From the many, many poems I have vaguely skimmed over in recent days I’ve chosen one bit of vampire poetry to share—for two reasons.

  1. Because it’s short and so many of them are not
  2. Because I suspect it’s copyright-free based on, you know, being published hundreds of years ago

Vampire poetry written by Rudyard Kipling in 1897

The Vampire

A fool there was and he made his prayer
(Even as you or I!)
To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair,
(We called her the woman who did not care),
But the fool he called her his lady fair—
(Even as you or I!)

Oh, the years we waste and the tears we waste,
And the work of our head and hand
Belong to the woman who did not know
(And now we know that she never could know)
And did not understand!

A fool there was and his goods he spent,
(Even as you or I!)
Honour and faith and a sure intent
(And it wasn’t the least what the lady meant),
But a fool must follow his natural bent
(Even as you or I!)

Oh, the toil we lost and the spoil we lost
And the excellent things we planned
Belong to the woman who didn’t know why
(And now we know that she never knew why)
And did not understand!

The fool was stripped to his foolish hide,
(Even as you or I!)
Which she might have seen when she threw him aside—
(But it isn’t on record the lady tried)
So some of him lived but the most of him died—
(Even as you or I!)

“And it isn’t the shame and it isn’t the blame
That stings like a white-hot brand—
It’s coming to know that she never knew why
(Seeing, at last, she could never know why)
And never could understand!”

The poem’s meaning

OK I’m going to be honest, I’m not really sure what just happened up there.

However, through my excellent research skills on the Internet, I have learned this piece of vampire poetry is about a gold digging vampire lady.

Well, I’m sure it is. For me though, my may enjoyment was from all the brackets and punctuation. It was quite fun.

Actually, I’m horrible with poetry. It’s like conceptual art…I just don’t “get” it. Or, actually I guess I mean it’s difficult for me to think in that space. What is that, right brain or something?

I don’t know. Lots of times I wonder why I can seem to write so much but I can’t grasp certain elements of the craft like fiction. Maybe I’m just afraid of it. Yes, that’s it. I’m afraid of vampire poetry. And poetry poetry. Also conceptual art. And fiction.

Oh, and VAMPIRES!

Much to my surprise, there is a lot of vampire poetry out there. From the many poems I have vaguely skimmed over in recent days I've chosen one to share.

Other posts about vampires