A further retelling of Dracula in poetic form:

To London, Across the Sea
by Michael Doyle

In a tested game of chess
A knight is menacing a queen
The losing side will confess
What this really means

A voyage has its complications
With an array of intuitions 
None of which is to be attached
For life is fragile and best detached

Scratches on the coffin bear the mark
Of a truth as feared as it is stark
Death is a destroyer of all plans
It is just that plain to understand

A broken down ship begins to set sail
In this middle of our dark tale
With an agreement of the strangeness of it all
The truth of this will be known before nightfall

Fear waits listening at the door
While death speaks of hunger and more
There is something ravenous in his eyes
As around him swirls a canopy of flies

There is little good in a story
That reads and sounds like a story
Everyone needs a little spice for glory
Otherwise, it is, indeed, just another story

While the master of darkness breathes in the night
A gathering fog staunches out the light
Even the deaf and dumb have eyes to see
The obvious is not so very hard to see

The wages of the master pay the price of slavery
As cruelly as the passage of damnation's eternity
Appearances are kept in its necessary evil
The penalty for shaking hands with the Devil

Turns in the wickedness of deep conversation
Keeps good company traveling toward destination
An age of elegance becomes draped in the vulgarity
As the journey is made to London, across the sea

(c) June 15, 2020  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved