Nosferatu picture courtesy of tumblr.com
The white face stares within
from the window yet again
Bloodless is the skin
as are the eyes, yet sharp as pins
Whispered, soundless lips move
scratching at the window pane too
With nails long and cold white hands
reaching from the darklands
Reaching for what lies within
hungers for what should’ve been
And salivates in its thirst
wanting to feed, fit to burst
The sleeping figure stirs in dreams
unaware of being seen
But images intrude the sleep
of monsters who on innocents feed
And then the sleeping figure awakes
suddenly aware of envious hate
And sits up to look around
to the window, nowt to be found
Back to sleep the figure goes
just as the shadows grow
Once again the face appears
bloodless and so very near…
Posted in: Poetry
Caliburnus Rises 
Syed Umr Iftikhar Ahmed
Sep 1, 2013
reminds me of Bram Stoker’s Dracula 🙂
Darren Greenidge
Sep 1, 2013
Why thank you Syed. I’ll take that as a compliment. There was a film based on the Stephen King book called Salem’s Lot that had a scene in it that I described. It has haunted me ever since I was a kid. Probably in my subconscious I based it on both Dracula, which I recently reread, Nosferatu and Salem’s Lot. It was closing in on midnight last night and I just wrote a supernatural poem as something hit my window five floors up so that’s why I wrote it.
Glad you liked it though. I’ll follow your blog too.