Isaac Clay Poem by Kevin Moss

I knew a man called Isaac Clay,
who lived by night and slept by day.
He fed on fresh human blood,
like any decent vampire would.

He was turned at seventeen,
by the village squire of Pottersgreen.
As he lived he claimed many lives,
and through the years several wives.

I met him on a dark cold night,
while drinking ale by candlelight.
With clock turned back to hide the hour,
the trap was set to steal his power.

For many hours we talked that night,
Inns curtains drawn to hide approaching light.
He told a terrible story of countless tears,
shed by many families these two score years.

Old Isaac thought he'd made a friend,
with kind words spoken I did pretend,
I would join him in his evil deed,
of vampires blood lust nightly feed.

Then came the hour of mornings dawn,
I ordered the curtains to be indrawn.
As mornings light disolved the night,
to late the monster to take flight.

He ran to table then to chair,
as his evil flesh began to flare,
into flame and then to fire,
his unholy body began to tire.

His last words were of dreaded fear,
when into his heart I drove the spear.
Isaac looked at me in disbelief,
at that moment, I felt much grief.

'Who are you', he was heard to say.
I am your brother Jonathan Clay.

(02/2012)