Terrifying Ogre
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Trrifying Ogre
In memory it is standing still
with decrepit stateliness,
a crumbling mansion on the hill,
in pathetic loneliness.
Mama says when she was young
it was owned by a rich man
and was the nicest house in town.
Just picture it if you can.
When the Great Depression hit,
the rich man lost his money.
He jumped from the highest window.
“Now, no more questions, Honey.”
There were rumors that his widow stayed
after her husband died,
but no one saw her often.
If one called on her, she’d hide.
In my childhood the house frightened me,
like an ogre on the hill,
coming to life at night-time,
with emptiness to dispel.
It was searching for careless children
who dared to get too near.
If caught, they were seen no more
in their homes or any where.
My daddy said it was the wind
that made the sound of sighing.
My young ears, when I listened hard,
could hear a woman crying.
By: Joyce Johnson 9/14/11 Won a 2nd
For Constance My Dear Heart’s contest “Creepy, Scary, Haunted House Poem, Pleas”
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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