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Sara L Russell Oct 2009
In 4 sonnets, by Sara L. Russell
(aka Pinky Andrexa) 2/6/03

I

A vampire's spun of dust and frailty,
Condemned to shun the healing light of day;
No innocent first kiss for such as he,
No cross to keep his own demons away.

He's poised in shadow, by the lady's bed,
Fixated by her flawless, youthful skin,
Her fragile throat beneath her dreaming head,
Translucent, showing pale blue veins within.

"And will I lift the curtain of thy hair,
And on thy pale white *****, stoop to feed?
If thou wakest to find me sleeping there
Would there be retribution for my greed?"

She does not hear his whispered litany.
He stoops to feed, in silent ecstasy.


II

Her blood intoxicates him right away.
His head is reeling; he is feeling strange.
She's tasted claret earlier that day,
Surfiet of wine has caused her blood to change.

Inebriated now, he starts to yawn,
As gently, like a cradle, the room sways.
He's mindful he must not linger till dawn,
Yet down he lies and, dozing, there he stays.

Wild dreams of parties fill his sozzled mind:
Of sanguinary crimes, of flying free,
Of hanging upside down with his own kind,
In places that the sun will never see.

As if thrown from a lofty height, he lies.
Beside him, she has opened her blue eyes.


III

The lady does not turn her drowsy head
At first, but when she does, stifles a cry.
The ashen youth beside her appears dead,
With bloodied lips; until he seems to sigh,

Whereon his mouth curves into a half-smile,
His wanton eyebrows flicker as he dreams.
She settles down to watch him for a while,
How very dark and dangerous he seems!

"And will I lift the curtain of thy hair
And on thy handsome throat, alight to feed?
If thou wakest to find me lying there,
Wouldst thou be angry, or rejoice to bleed?"

Did I say that? She wonders, feeling odd,
She gives her new sharp canine teeth a ****.


IV

He wakes, looks up - and she is looking down.
Her wide blue eyes betray none of her fears.
He stares at her, his hand raised to his crown
(He's not had such a hangover for years).

Gaze locks to gaze; they cannot turn away,
He falls into her eyes, she into his,
Then there is nothing left to do or say
Until they have exchanged a tender kiss.

Now comes her father, thumping up the stairs,
The vampire turns, in dreamy half-surprise,
Lifting her up, and, overturning chairs,
Leaps to the window sill; fire in his eyes.

"You're mine now, little one"  She hears him say.
One more leap - and she's spirited away.
Sara L Russell Oct 2009
by Sara L. Russell (aka Pinky Andrexa)


I'll paint you in the colours of a day
Rose -madder sunrise, amber, burnished gold;
For nature has no solid black or grey
And colour lets her miracles unfold.

Adored by light, touched by ecstatic air
And on the canvas lend your warming grace;
All subtle shades of skin and tousled hair,
So beautiful in body, soul and face.

I'll paint you in the velvet tones of night,
Emerging from the shadows of a dream;
Temptation's muse, whose eyes softly invite,
Whose skin is moonlight and vanilla cream.

I'll paint you faithfully, and when it's done,
All others pale beside the Golden One.


----------------------------------------------------------­---
NOTES:

I wrote this after I finished my painting of the brilliant young actor Nico Mirallegro, from a calendar photo of him. The photo is a very iconic image that has been much-commented on his MySpace page, so it was a good choice to paint.
Sara L Russell Apr 2010
(aka Pinky Andrexa)
4/4/10  02.09am


I am walking in a daydream under skies forever grey,
Lying always in the shadow of ambitions all foregone;
I'm going through the motions of another working day,
Feeling permanently static, as the world is moving on.


And you're forever shining like some distant blazing sun,
You're gleaming as I'm dreaming, making all who see you smile;
The wings upon your heels still elevate you as you run,
So many want to be you, or would emulate your style.


From distance I behold you, as a cat beholds a king,
All doors open before you, in successions of success;
Your flame's forever burning, while my own is dwindling,
I could not be further away, or love you any less.


While you, you dice with danger, dancing on the precipice,
Leaving admirers breathless at your daring escapades;
And all your leading ladies ever burn to taste your kiss,
Your destiny speeds to you riding jet-powered rollerblades.


Yet two unlikely paths have crossed and subtle friendship blooms,
And many dreams take flight between the gutter and the stars;
Making the span of distance shrink into adjoining rooms
Opening secret passageways, where chosen dreamers pass.
(For you dear friend; the nicest person I never met. x x)

NOTE: The second line of the last stanza "And many dreams take flight beneath the gutter and the stars;" refers to Oscar Wilde's famous quote "We are all of us in the gutter; but some of us are looking at the stars."
Sara L Russell Oct 2009
He Whom The Light Loves
by Sara L. Russell aka Pinky Andrexa


Where is he today, he whom the light loves,
his face all kissed by sunlight, caressed by shadow,
he who moves through the world like a sleek caracal,
lissom and lithe as a dancer spellbound by a song?


I thought I saw him in a waking dream,
all haloed in rays of a sunrise; hot amber and gold;
drawing admirers around him with burning allure,
luring us into the warming embrace of his arms.


Where is he who shines with an inner light,
with shades of magenta-rose on his petalled lips?
does he wander through distant daydreams of far away
unaware of all observers who wish to be loves?


Where is he today, he whom the light loves,
all vibrant energy of highlight and shade?
I'm blowing wistful kisses to air again
wishing him love and the happiness I've still to find.


---------------------------------------------------------­------
(Dedicated to my favourite actor, talking about the way he lights up the screen).
Sara L Russell Nov 2009
END OF ILLUSION
(For Barry)
by Sara L. Russell (Pinky Andrexa)


How lovely was illusion
when it used to wear his face;
like some magical collusion
between mystery and grace.
Spun from lightning, stars and thunder,
luminescent as moonlight,
with dark eyes wide with wonder
and hair as black as night.


How lovely was desire
when it used to sigh his name;
forged out of passion's fire,
too mischievous for shame.
He's a hero for our dreams
to entice us out to play;
how untouchable he seems
till they pull the ground away!


Shave the lion, chop the willow
strip the peacock of its plumes,
burn his image from the pillow,
leave us dying from the fumes;
lost in darkness and confusion,
torn from all we used to know -
please don't take away our illusion,
we love him so.

— The End —