(Somehow, I've always thought 'Succubus' ought to be a song....)
Creature of the night entraps
with lies, her
touch inflaming passions. Succubus
she, yours
to never be, her
ways mythic in fashion. Demonly
being in
your dreams, succulent
wants awaken. Restless
your sleep, those
fears are deep. Peaceful
dreams are taken.
Desires climb
a
thousand times and
again forever more. Last
breath, this night, no
struggle nor flight, succumbing
to ancient lore. Hypnotic,
her eyes, devilishly
wise, you
find resisting useless. The
will is gone… weak
smile, she’s won. Poor
man, completely helpless. Whom
she may choose, resolve
will loose, prey
to this ardent beast. Your
soul she has claimed, empty
shell remains… and in death you find no peace.
Succubus - Medieval Christian notion...she copulated with men in their dreams, and sucked out the essence of their souls (semen). Nocturnal emissions were always attributed to the attentions of she-demons who "cause men to dream of erotic encounters with women, so the succubae can receive their emission and make therefrom a new spirit." (A Woman's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets - Barbara Walker) A succubus was also blamed for a young man's death in his sleep - in Medieval times. The incubus was a male demon who visited women in their sleep and was blamed for misshapen or odd-looking children. Those children were destroyed at birth, being clearly the offspring of a demon. Incubuae were also blamed when women of impotent or absent husbands became pregnant. If those children were normal, and did not die after being bathed in holy water, then it was thought that the 'virtue' of the mother saved it from demonic presence. (One way to explain to a returning husband, I suppose!) This is the full version of the poem that serves as a prologue to my short story 'Hunter Among Them'.
Hunter Among Them
The
wind howls its fury, joining
eerie chorus Black night, hunter’s moon,
evil forebode He unites his
voice with theirs, solemn song to silver disk bejeweling
indigo night Once
each waning moon human
form assumed life
unwinds
Pantoum Cunning of nature courses veins ages old
Ancient
On silent
padded paws, strange
hunting stealth
compels. Indigo night darkly
sensuous, exciting scent of blood . . .
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