The Prada Poet: The Vampire Poet

Roxanne, The Vampire Poet

Roxanne is a member of the Vampire Empire, the Bram Stoker Memorial Association and the International Society for for the Study of Ghosts and Apparitions. She loves ghost stories, especially those about vampires and werewolves and is completing a novel in verse about a family of vampires titled Bloodline.

Here is a selection of her vampire poetry. "The Slayer" was written specifically to be used as voice over for the independent film Love and the Vampire directed by Rick Poli, and produced by David Gold, Producer and Host of the David Gold Show on Manhattan Cable ©Madeline Artenberg 2004TV. "Dare I" and "A Vampire's Lament" were developed independently of the film and modified for use in the film. The original full-length versions of all three poems are posted below. For photo's of Rick Poli who also plays the Vampire Vasile Popescu in the film and his co-star Debra Lewis who plays Vasile's bride, please scroll down the end of the page.

"The Vampire's Lament" appeared in the 2005 Spring Edition of Nomads Choir.

DARE I?

Dare I tell of demon spell?
of mirrors, I dare not pass,
for now, I face an empty glass,
where once, I graced
a splendid figure, now erased,
I peer, reflecting only space.

©Roxanne Hoffman 2001

And yet, I see these haggard hands,
stretched out before me,
nails gnarled, bony knuckles cracked,
and their shifting shadow cast,
when thumbs linked with long fingers waving,
like a winged rat in flight.

Dare I tell of demon spell?
of window shades, I dare not raise,
where once I sat sunning,
and praised countless, cloudless, blue-sky days,
from which now I shrink, shunning
the sun’s scorching hellish blaze!

And yet, I yearn for light,
but must settle for the fleeting flickers
of imitation sun by way of
brass candles sticks and whale oil wicks.

Dare I tell of demon spell?
of late night walk,
and stealth-like stalk;
of fangs flesh rip,
with blood-stained lip;
of faces left as white as chalk,
and heavy heads slumped over,
with limbs, limp and lifeless,
dumped in shallow graves.

Dare I tell of demon spell?
of home’s sweet haven,
now choking, sunless, vaulted cell.
of Life’s-So-Lonely hell.

Dare I?
For who would listen to my complaint?
some noble patient saint?
or some slayer laying in wait?
for me to make some mistake,
and so tripped, trap me.

March 19, 2004
Roxanne Hoffman
Hoboken, NJ

©Copyright ©2004 Roxanne Hoffman

A Vampire's Lament

In this still hour before the night,
I contemplate my pitiful plight
to be lured by the wolfish howling of the wind,
each night, my primal prowling again begins.

I rise rejoining the restless pack
and stealthy seep out into the black
shadows cast by the remaining ruins of the day
to track the scent of human misery.

I creep along the well-trimmed hedges and neatly planted borders,
while their daytime tenders slumber soundly gated in their quarters,
until I hear the widow's weeping wail,
and spot her lighted window beckoning,
and so invited, I race rueful across the grounds
to do my rightful reckoning.

©Roxanne Hoffman 2001

And in this manner I continue my nightly haunt,
until Dawn's pink fingers climb the heathered hills
and spill her welcome warmth and golden glow
across the checkerboard fields laid out below.

For then I rest and sleep the dreamless sleep of death,
until woken by the wolfish howling of the wind
or the weeping widow's wail.

February 21, 2004
Roxanne Hoffman
Hoboken, NJ

Published in the Spring 2005 Edition of NOMADS CHOIR

Copyright ©2004 Roxanne Hoffman

©Roxanne Hoffman 2001

The Slayer

The Slayer hunts his prey by day:
The monsters who murdered his wife and child and got away,
A pair of parasites whose ceaseless appetite for human flesh and bone
have turned the Slayer's already heavy heart to leaded stone.

Without a tear or fear left to blur his vision,
He seeks his prey with eagle-eye precision:
Each disappearance tracked and traced;
Each clue, each lead, each suspect chased;
Each detail double-checked, cross-checked and categorized;

Each street and alley scrutinized.
The Slayer hunts his prey by day
and will not rest until they lay,
limp and lifeless {evaporated} at his feet
for only then will his mission be complete.

And only then will his heart beat free again
so he can once more laugh and cry like other men.

April 26, 2004
Roxanne Hoffman
Hoboken, NJ