Poetry by Elaine Mills
                   HEARTS YEARNING
         His beauty astounds me. 
         Though others think not.
         Completely surrounds me.
         Binds my heart in a knot.
         His voice ever captivating.
         Azure eyes with heart rending sight.
         Still, I keep hesitating.
         Seeing dark shadows in his might.
         A gentle soul held deep within.
         Encased in a shell of illusion.
         One must look beneath the skin.
         And see the real man, not the delusion.
         Though I'll love him forever.
         Someone he'll never see.
         A fanciful, silent lover.
         Dreaming of course, that it's me . . . 
                              He loves.
About the Author         
In 1994 Elaine Mills of Australia produced her Fanzine "Idylls of
The Beast". Elaine is an all seasons Beauty and the Beast Fan,
and is still faithful to her love of the Series. Should anyone
reading her stories care to write to her, regarding them, Elaine
can be contacted at:

Elaine Mills
14 Wilga Street
Poetry by Lynette Combs
Dream Seeker

When reason chafes and logic will not serve,
and faith and patience both have lost their nerve,
and loneliness must rule, or so it seems,
then I am overtaken by my dreams.
I wreathe my secret self in song and rhyme
beyond the worldly reach, or bounds of time;
I break my bread with poet-kings, and call
the unicorn from out his leafy hall
to take the proffered crust with velvet lips;
I share forbidden wine in savored sips;
and when the night encircles, dark and deep,
I lay me down with lions... in my sleep.

                                ... for Vincent


Happy Ending

   The terrace
   overlooking Central Park
   stands empty now,
   forever still and stark.
   The only visitor
   that comes is night.
   A luminary moon
   may rise up bright
   and full on its appointed
   rounds, and yet --
   there is no tall
   broad-shouldered silhouette
   defined across those
   vacant windowpanes.
   Upon this terrace,
   only silence reigns.

   Within, no one 
   awaits him any more.
   No graceful wraith stands by
   that terrace door
   to listen for his footstep
   just outside,
   and so unlock the door
   and throw it wide...
   The rooms she left behind
   are pale and still;
   and echo, as all
   empty places will.
   The bed in which she
   often tossed and turned,
   and wept with longing
   for him then, and burned
   with unrequited love,
   is cold as dreams.

   But wait!  This story
   isn't what it seems.
   The truth is that
   she went Below one night,
   where he was also
   burning, burning bright.
   Together then, they made
   a light that came
   to put the very candles 
   there to shame...
   And having (at long last)
   known all his love,
   she would not leave
   for all the world, Above!

Her Ardent Heart

Oh hush, my love.  Come lay your weary
  heart and spirit down, 
and let me lean my cheek upon
  your bright, unruly crown.
Don't shake your head -- or walk away --
  deny me yet again --
or fall to raging, after, like
  a lion in his den.
(I see your blue eyes widen now;
  you didn't think I knew.
But love, our bond is one that cuts
  both ways.  Of course I do!)

I understand your hesitation
  and uncertainty;
that fear and courage drive you,
  even now, to set me free.
I see the terrible dilemma
  you believe we face;
the desperate restraint in your
  most welcoming embrace...
And in my ardent heart, my love,
  I'm certain too of this;
you've come to see this loving 
  threshold as a precipice.

I see it in your eyes, my love,
  and in the way you stand,
a man about to fall -- about to drown --
  but take my hand,
and come and lie beside me now.
  I know the way from here;
for only love can free us both
  from loneliness, and fear.
Oh, don't -- don't look away from me
  again, or bow your head,
but lay it on this patchwork pillow,
  next to mine, instead.

You think that love prevents my seeing
  you for what you are.
I see more clearly than you know,
  in loving from afar
and in my dreams, and so in yours --
  oh yes, I know it's true;
that through this bond we share
  you couldn't help but feel it too...
But dream in truth, and I will lay
  my body close to thine,
and pour my love into your spirit
  like a warm, sweet wine.


About the Author:

Lynette Combs
Talents: Writer, Artist, Poet, Editor
Tenure: 1989
Interests: Classics; G-X, art, photos, videos, stationary.
(Letterzines have been too angry and bitter, and too dominated by
third season.)
Occupation: Graphic Artist (computer) for newspaper; freelancer.
Favorite Episodes: Brothers, Bluebird Sings, Masques, God Bless
the Child, --It  depends on what day of the week it is...
Favorite Moment: Last moment in " Fair and Perfect Knight" on the
balcony when Vincent pulls Catherine towards him. Subtle but
incredibly erotic!
Favorite character (after V&C, of course!): Father, because of
the growth his character displayed, and his change of attitude
toward Catherine, during the two seasons. (I confess, I'm also
influenced by the fact that in "real life," Roy Dotrice is a true
gentleman, artist and someone worthy of admiration.)
Comment: This show has "opened the world" for me. I never took
myself, or my artwork and writing, seriously until Vincent &
Catherine told me I had the courage to do that. This was an
amazing catalyst toward helping me to really LIVE the rest of my