All content Copyright Chryse Wymer 2007-2010
This Website Designed By Anne Rogers Copyright 2007-2010
This Website Designed By Anne Rogers Copyright 2007-2010
Some of Chryse Wymer's Poetry
Vampires
Vampires plague our bedroom
They stumble across our cotton sheets
these criss-crossing drunken houseguests
who glance at the garlic necklace
dangling from our headboard.
We look at each other
Like ordinary lovers
considering the colors
red and pink
as we go skipping by with gossamer caresses
That not even a vampire can see.
Their death invades us
with the evening news
and video games,
music that stifles thought and emotion.
They crawl across our bedsheets
and look for us,
But we are hiding in each other's arms
sealed up with a kiss.
Copyright Chryse Wymer 2007
Vampires plague our bedroom
They stumble across our cotton sheets
these criss-crossing drunken houseguests
who glance at the garlic necklace
dangling from our headboard.
We look at each other
Like ordinary lovers
considering the colors
red and pink
as we go skipping by with gossamer caresses
That not even a vampire can see.
Their death invades us
with the evening news
and video games,
music that stifles thought and emotion.
They crawl across our bedsheets
and look for us,
But we are hiding in each other's arms
sealed up with a kiss.
Copyright Chryse Wymer 2007
Explosive
Sweet secret cyanide,
I am looking for something
more volatile to replace you.
Narcissism, this is a warning:
If daisies sprout from my defamatory mouth,
do not be surprised.
Noxious fumes of rosehips
fill the air around me
A smile on every tree and toad I see.
Flipping on my love-colored glasses,
the world is painted in rainbows
and with his name
whispering to me
in the slightest breeze.
Sweet secret cyanide,
I will keep you for awhile
until your replacement is permanent
for I may require
one last vial.
Copyright Chryse Wymer 2007
Sweet secret cyanide,
I am looking for something
more volatile to replace you.
Narcissism, this is a warning:
If daisies sprout from my defamatory mouth,
do not be surprised.
Noxious fumes of rosehips
fill the air around me
A smile on every tree and toad I see.
Flipping on my love-colored glasses,
the world is painted in rainbows
and with his name
whispering to me
in the slightest breeze.
Sweet secret cyanide,
I will keep you for awhile
until your replacement is permanent
for I may require
one last vial.
Copyright Chryse Wymer 2007
Albuquerque
We walked along the railroad ties
that summer
Two little girls with our arms out
like airplanes.
We hopped over the crunchy grass;
She did so gracefully.
We stopped and stared at the sunflowers
her mother planted,
taller than some houses
Twisting to look at us
with their giant eyes in the summer sun.
We moved on
past the broken down greenhouse, chicken coop,
bits of old razor wire fencing
We saw a boxcar that read, in faded letters: SANTA FE
We peered in and got yelled at.
Quickly, we moved back to the house
that isn't theirs anymore.
Copyright Chryse Wymer 2008
We walked along the railroad ties
that summer
Two little girls with our arms out
like airplanes.
We hopped over the crunchy grass;
She did so gracefully.
We stopped and stared at the sunflowers
her mother planted,
taller than some houses
Twisting to look at us
with their giant eyes in the summer sun.
We moved on
past the broken down greenhouse, chicken coop,
bits of old razor wire fencing
We saw a boxcar that read, in faded letters: SANTA FE
We peered in and got yelled at.
Quickly, we moved back to the house
that isn't theirs anymore.
Copyright Chryse Wymer 2008
Excerpt from The Dark Room continued.
Too Much Knowledge
Is a Dangerous Thing
Is a Dangerous Thing
The house was nondescript, an hour from downtown but easy to find, being right around the corner from the freeway. I stretched as I got out of my car, and came nearly eye-to-eye with shrieking peacocks, bright plumage on full display, only three thin lines of electrified fence separating us; various other animals oinked and brayed and clucked.
When I walked over and rapped a half-closed fist on the screen door, nobody answered. This was the kind of place where the family could be out back doing whatever hard labor it is farmers do. The house was a tall A-frame with a cherry tree and a porch swing in the front lawn, the property fenced in at the edge of the driveway so that a cow might have pushed his nose through my car window.
I strolled to the back of the house and into the dark barn, hands behind my back, observing. "Jonathon?"
I heard the sounds of tossed, jostled, and smothered objects--a mad search was taking place.
"What do you want? A growling voice emerged from the shadows.
"Jonathon? You need some help?
"Nah. I'll be out in a minute, just looking for some flash bulbs and a camera I thought was out here."
"Well…this is a nice farm."
"We got horses, pigs, goats, and the cows of course…all kinds of animals. Have you met Ma yet?
"No" I smiled, always fond of sweet farm couples who called each other Ma and Pa.
"She and my boy should be inside getting dinner ready."
I nodded, and followed him inside.
When I walked over and rapped a half-closed fist on the screen door, nobody answered. This was the kind of place where the family could be out back doing whatever hard labor it is farmers do. The house was a tall A-frame with a cherry tree and a porch swing in the front lawn, the property fenced in at the edge of the driveway so that a cow might have pushed his nose through my car window.
I strolled to the back of the house and into the dark barn, hands behind my back, observing. "Jonathon?"
I heard the sounds of tossed, jostled, and smothered objects--a mad search was taking place.
"What do you want? A growling voice emerged from the shadows.
"Jonathon? You need some help?
"Nah. I'll be out in a minute, just looking for some flash bulbs and a camera I thought was out here."
"Well…this is a nice farm."
"We got horses, pigs, goats, and the cows of course…all kinds of animals. Have you met Ma yet?
"No" I smiled, always fond of sweet farm couples who called each other Ma and Pa.
"She and my boy should be inside getting dinner ready."
I nodded, and followed him inside.
Copyright Chryse Wymer 2010.
The Dark Room by Chryse Wymer.
Review.
Review.
The Dark Room is the latest offering from author Chryse Wymer, it is a dark fantasy which will keep the reader on the edge of their seat. Chryse's style has matured over the years to become very edgy and too the point.
Charlie Landers is a reporter with a nose for trouble, and every where he looks, he sees trouble. His world is falling apart and now someone is out to get him; using black magic.
Charlie Landers is a reporter with a nose for trouble, and every where he looks, he sees trouble. His world is falling apart and now someone is out to get him; using black magic.
Highly recommended.
Regards Anne Rogers
September 2010
Regards Anne Rogers
September 2010