We had a fright before Christmas, while all through the house, Not a creature was stirring; well, maybe a mouse. The stuffed stockings were hung on the mantle downstairs, I hoped they’d remain; it was in need of repairs. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions […]
A Fright Before Christmas Read More »
Each year on December 5th, a person in my hometown is brutally murdered. The police are at a loss. With each victim, a poetic story is left behind. Below are the stories from the past three years. * * * * * * Fredrik loved to smile, for he was
Horror Haiku 1 Howls keen through the air Piercing through the lonely night Moon is full and bright 2 Lips red as the rose Skin white and frigid as snow Teeth sharper than steel 3 The faceless thing stares At something deep inside you You pray to forget 4 He
Momentary Discomfort Read More »
During nightly hours of yore, in a time of horror and war, I would sit on a dank oak bench with my eyes shut, calm and closure. Then, my eyes open when I sense a figure approach me with grace. One of nature’s eccentric frights perched itself above my shoulder.
CHAPTER ONE Demons Of Darkness by Olivia B. She stood on the bridge In silence and fear For the demons of darkness Had driven her here They cut her heart Right out of her chest Making her believe That the demons knew best They were always there Sometimes just out
In a nearby town, there lives a clown whose laughter fills the air, and in crowded places, with his painted faces he shocks with skill and flair. Through a comic fall, and tales grown tall, those watching delight with glee, to forget their worries, of bills and moneys, as the
The first account – it was in a warm September A month still haunted by the saddening winter. If well I remember, the winds still lashed The village where, upon dusk, dogs barked The place where, until dawn, no soul wandered. That dame, I first saw her in a mere
Honorable C.S.H.M: I was there when it started four years ago to the day. I, the baker and Mathias, my friend the farrier. We walked the quaint cobblestone streets of our town that night as we did most, houses unshuttered, the trees at ease, the glow of a far-off lantern
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A girl named Philhandria with hair black and blue, and pretty eyes sparkling in the darkened sky’s hue, walked down a dirty road last night at quarter past ten, when a thing stumbled up and watched where she’d been. It sat by the roadside and leaned on a sign, rasping
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I chose to sleep the days away chose comfort in dreams, safe from a world so grey My mind gave me comfort my life could not so as I dreamed, I could not stop I was happy at first, with my daily sights European castles with thousands of lights the
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My first love was a pretty girl with golden hair and skin of pearl. We thought our meeting one of chance, our senses caught in that first glance, and watched our love unfurl. Our lives entwined at dizzying rate, as if our love was set by fate, and none were
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He came into town on a cold, dry wind Kicking up dust and blowing sand The sun dimmed for a moment that day The howling wind seemed to say “He has the look of a dangerous man” His eyes were hot and black as ash Glaring at those whom he
New Year’s night is a time of bliss and celebration Joy to one and all, but one for the duration But all through the night till the morning after sedation The lowly eyeball man finds a different sort of elation Ragged clothes and face bathed in shadow A thousand eyes
Farmer John was dead and gone; Hay-men watched his fields still: Lumpy sacks that had for long Drawn the crows in manner ill Some had come to pull them down But always failed in the task, Bound to flee at hinted frown Seen, they swore, in vacant mask Passersby would
Everyone knows me, No one knows my name, I am well liked, but not close to fame, My heart was broken, and I died in the rain, I became a ghost, Sid was my name, That night I walked to school, I climbed to the top, I had to do
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No one knew the secret spot where we as children played at night. The ashen moon, our only light, would greet us painted on the pond. The placid water, cool and black, would wash away the summer heat. The silty ground, cooler still, was soft and lumpy underfoot. Seaweed danced
The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So she sat in the house All that cold, cold, wet day. She just sat in a chair All alone, by herself. As she watched the paint dry On her brand new bookshelf. Too wet to go out And
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The rain pattered on the single-hung window, As I lay awake on my satin bed sheets; Sleep had no desire to stay, So I wait, observing Darkness. The downpour roared as the storm grew heavier, Throwing more diversion towards peace; Temporary madness overwhelmed my emotions Resulting in aggravated moans produced
(This is an old poem that kids used to sing, during the middle ages. Its source is still unknown today.) If you see a great tall man, don’t worry, he is a friend. Don’t ask him what is his name, for he will be your friend. If you have other
