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Scary Halloween Poems | Scary Poems About Halloween

These Scary Halloween poems are examples of Scary poems about Halloween. These are the best examples of Scary Halloween poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Around the Corner

As I walk downtown I see an alley 
Where a black cat sat staring up at me,
The sound of her purring was so soothing 
Lulled and hypnotized me how could that be.

With its green eyes lightning up the darkness 
I saw a sign was hanging that said Tea,
It seemed to be just around the corner
In an alley that led down to the sea.

I walk and the black cat seems to follow 
Awareness of her presence filled the air,
In a flash we turned around the corner 
Where stood an old stone building with one stair.

I looked to find the feline now missing,
Then climbed the step and gently pushed the door,
Cobwebs hung from rafters on the ceiling,
The wind made dust balls race across the floor.

I noticed tea of all sorts lined each wall,
The smells of herbs and spices filled my nose.
Sitting in a corner sat a woman,
Glaring at me sniffing a thorny rose.

Her eyes an emerald green that sparkled 
Her hair a shiny black darker then night,
By her stood a broom with crooked handle 
My senses told me something was not right.

I turned and ran while saying I’m sorry,
It seems I’m lost forgive me and good day,
Hearing horrid screeches I am shaking
Running around the corner in late May.

Soaked with sweat I run out to the main street 
People wonder why I’m carrying on,
As I shout loud, don’t go down this alley
I turn and notice that it now is gone.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.17.2014
For Francine Roberts Contest 
Around the Corner 


Details | Rhyme | |

Halloween,Halloween

I shiver at the thought of being attacked by owls,
My home infested by Carols' pesky trolls,
A fire breathing dragon,flying around in the lobby,
Or a hand crawling around searching for it's body,
A hunchback with six eyes in his head,
Or zombies walking around calling themselves,the living dead,,,

I am scared of bats,turning into vampires,
Gorgons hopping around,throwing balls of fire,
Werewolves with scars,Chuckies with stitches,
And that big hairy bump on the nose of witches,
Blood running from the nozzle when I turn on the faucet,
Or skeletons and the Boogieman playing cards in the closet,,,

Right now i'm in a dark,dark room,hiding under the bed,
Features of my face growing taller,changing the shape
of my head,
Fingernails becoming fangs,eyes turning red,
GRRRR!!!it's HOLLOWEEN again,a night of feast
for the rising dead,,,


      




Details | Rhyme | |

In a Dark, Dark Room

I lay on my pillow in a dark, dark room
Staring out the window from my bed
The moon looks like Camembert floating in the sky
And I’m sure I seen two witches flying by.

One had a broom with black smoke shooting out
The other had a pair of training wheels,
They were both being followed by their huge black bat
And in the naked tree my neighbour’s cat.

I crawl to my window stretch my neck and peek about
Halloween’s ascended on my street
Pumpkins guarding porches with their eyes on fire 
And my stomach is now turning like a dryer

Suddenly behind me comes a scratching sound
Chills run down my back, I close my eyes
I bite my bottom lip planning my escape route 
And I quickly grab my bear on my way out.

My parents seem startled as I crash into their room
I tell them of the horrors I’d endured.
Dad lifts me up and mother gently strokes my head 
And in minutes I’m sleeping snuggled in their bed.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
09.22.2014
Contest: In a Dark, dark room
Pendleton Arkwright


Details | Rhyme | |

creeper

With the break of a heart the soul bleeds from the body,
Rising to the heavens only to find a lock on the golden gates.
Pooled blood on the floor starts to hardened and stain,
A paradise for parasites the dying corrupt corpse creates.
No more housing for a sinner soaked soul, it is refused reentry,
Nothing for a wandering spirit to stick to leaves time to fates.
A ghost, translucent with an attitude of control mixed with fear,
Denied the destination promised by the men considered mates.
To go out with a bang, and burst and a bust of one's on will,
is like setting up an all you can eat buffet without providing plates.
Forgotten by failure, feasting on betrayed beliefs bound in a book,
He is a soul hardened to haunt the night with aggression and hates.
Lugging a backpack of bruises and a suitcase of emotional scars,
A vagabond visiting victims for another body to join, he watches and waits.



Happy Halloween
October 30, 2014
casarah.altervista.org


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part One

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz

Prologue
This is a rather grim epic poetic tale of Rosalia, a 16th century German witch who terrorized villages, destroyed the lives and corrupted the souls of many people throughout the countryside in the Harz Mountains in Germany. 

Rosalia focused her evil and malicious activities at the outset in a land area directly below the Brocken summit in the Harz. Over the time and extent of her macabre reign as a Black Witch and a Master of the Black Arts, Rosalia began to expand her campaign of evil among other provincial areas of the Harz beyond the Brocken. Her periodic nightly raids on villages in the Harz are part of the continuing legends of witchcraft and sorcery that still pervade the local culture there to this very day. 

Rosalia in modern day parlance was the “real deal” when it came to wreaking havoc and pandemonium among mankind. That is, she was truly a redoubtable force of evil and unmitigated malevolence, not to be toyed with nor underestimated by anyone seeking to confront her. Rosalia was bent on fulfilling Lucifer’s principal goals: destroying the peace and harmony of mankind; disrupting the holy balance of the relationship between Man and God; corrupting the eternal souls of men, women, and children; extinguishing the light in the world; and bringing mankind into darkness and despair.       

Rosalia’s Entrée to the 16th Century
Rosalia was born and later raised as a child in a Witches’ coven.
Although Rosalia was born in the 16th century again in human form, 
she was, in reality, a reincarnated evil soul many centuries old.
Her Hell-spawned soul was seared in Hell’s very own oven, 
and like the Gorgon Medusa herself—she was a creature gone wild. 

Rosalia indeed was also an intense and a very precocious child: 
who was imbued with uncanny and unearthly powers,
who was “left-handed” and obviously “sinister,”
who possessed a keen and piercing intellect,
and had scaurous, strong ankles and a schnauzkrampf-like mouth,
and was fisslingual like the Devil—with a “forked tongue,” 
who had a horrifying and monstrous Medusa-like appearance
at a glance—stark and menacing, frightening and rapacious, 
with jet black stringy, snake-like hair and black teeth,
with dark probing eyes and exceptional sensory perception,
and a bulbous, bile-ridden black wart . . . 
protruding on the lower left side of her nose close to the tip.

Rosalia and Black Magic were one in the same, and
her craggy appearance and coarse demeanor—black wart and all,
her deceptive powers, and her utter malevolence toward man— 
all constituting a terrifying reflection of pure evil and foreboding, 
and all the while illuminating mankind’s quizzical wonderment 
at the power of die Hexerei.

Rosalia was aptly known and greatly feared as the “Queen of Walpurgis Nacht,” “The Devil’s Concubine,” and “The Queen of Darkness.”

Rosalia delighted in being “The Devil’s Concubine” by name,
for her liaisons with Lucifer made her omnipotent and devoutly unholy.
Her unbridled sense of power and invincibility was this Black Witch’s aim,
for this fed her conviction to do vicious and evil things—to be unholy.

Rosalia’s Power and Relationship to the Devil
It is said that Rosalia’s power of Witchcraft and the Black Arts
derived from her worship to and direct relationship with the Devil himself,
thus making her virtually omnipotent, all-powerful.

As the most favored disciple and mistress of the Dark One
Rosalia acutely honed her pagan skills in the Black Arts 
to the highest rapture while using her Gorgon-grimaced face
to strike fear in all who resisted her using a withering and wicked 
mesmerizing gaze with which she paralyzed her victims with unending
torment, agony, and fear.

On occasion she would extract the putrid bile liquid from her Black Wart
and used it to poison and corrupt the life essence of her victims—if they resisted.

The utter revulsion and palpable fear felt by Rosalia’s victims
was practically indescribable given its horrible nature. 

Both her power and her conviction to do vicious evil things 
appeared to be wrapped in a cloak of seeming invincibility.

Lucifer did exceedingly well in his choice of Rosalia as his most favored disciple and mistress—for she savored his ferocious favor and unleashed without a conscience a torrent of evil doings and unholy machinations on those unlucky enough to cross her path.  

To know Rosalia was to realize a gorgonesque damnation forever 
while she pursued the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.
In time Rosalia was granted the power over all hell-spawned demons forever to support and consummate her unholy activities in the name of Lucifer.

End of Part One
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Eight

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Eight

On the next morn’ at dawn the sentence of hanging until dead was carried out on Rosalia. Her body hanged from the gallows’ rope for three days and then was consumed, as pronounced, in the hottest of fires until only fine burnt ashes remained. 

Conclusion
One interesting thing occurred though at the conclusion to all of this:  no one seems to know whatever happened to those “fine burnt ashes” of Rosalia. It is rumored that even in the Harz today in this 21st century that no one knows where her ashes ultimately ended up at. Were they buried in an urn?  Disposed of in a river?  Or did one of her old disciples who escaped Archangel Gabriel’s retribution manage to scoop them up for some future Black Mass resurrection ceremony?  The rumors surrounding this anomaly still abound today and have never fully been explained. Time will tell.

Rosalia’s final curse on the church court and all who were in attendance at that time, is still in force today. Who knows if this is really the case?  It is said, however, that the power and spells and curses of old Witchcraft never truly die, and that they will be with mankind as part of the continuing struggle between Good and Evil until the end of time.

Rosalia—the Evil Black Witch of the Harz, may indeed be back one day in a more modern form to wreak her festering revenge on those present day relatives of those early familial forbearers who condemned her to death in the 16th century. The Devil may have sacrificed his most loyal witch and favorite mistress in the struggle with Archangel Gabriel in the 16th century in order to plan an even greater cataclysmic clash with the Lord God in a later century. Given the perpetually evil nature of Rosalia’s lost soul and her strict condemnation of God, she may well be reincarnated one day again to serve her Master’s bidding. She would want that to happen. Perhaps it already has. 

And so, if one day you should find yourself and your loved ones on a visit to the Harz, and you’re walking along very contently and comfortably and are basking in the sunshine of the beautiful and majestic deep forested area in and around the Brocken summit—Beware!!!—if you should suddenly see an immediate darkening of the clouds in the sky while also feverishly feeling and sensing the bone cold chill of a very frigid breeze and perhaps begin hearing and feeling the sonorous swooshing vibration of Rosalia’s broom as she flies very fast on it through the air close by—and then, you all of a sudden begin hearing that sneering, snickering, taunting, terrifying, and tormenting sound of Rosalia and her craggy and frightening old evil voice— IF THIS BE SO!!!—it may be too late for you and your loved ones. 

This is THE END of the epic poetic tale of Rosalia—the Evil Black Witch of the Harz.  Or is it???

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (September 20, 2014)
(Narrative)


Details | Rhyme | |

The Bell House Tower

We seen a dim light upon top of the Bell House Tower
a dark shadow slipped by it in the midnight hour.

What was that? I asked my friend, I don't know
she said, but it looked like something that's met
it's end.

The wind was blowing with such a strange howling
and all the city lights were off making it dark for
mysterious prowling.

A loud, maddening laughter rang through the air and
stood on our arms, every one of our hairs. We ran like
crazy down the ally way and never looked back until
the light of day.

The next morning a crowd had gathered at the Bell House
Tower and every one was shocked to see it was the bell
ringer who rung the bell, hour upon hour.

Not a sign made anyone sure of what happened, but we know
what we heard in the midnight hour, mad laughter from upon
top the Bell House Tower.


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Seven

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Seven

The Final Days:  Rosalia’s Death and Destruction
In the wake of such evil, debauchery and depravity what can be said now in the case of Rosalia?

Now in her mortal form the old black witch no longer had the unspeakable power of hell-spawned evil at her instant command. In spite of the victory of the power of goodness and light and the attenuation, if not the dissolution of witchcraft in the Harz, the memory of who Rosalia was and what she had done could now begin to be eased somewhat from the minds of local people and the clergy. But the memory of Rosalia and her evil could never be forgotten.  How could it be otherwise?

After three months of confinement in the dungeon at the Burg Worlerede, a fortress castle, very near to Cloister Marten in the Harz, Rosalia was eventually tried and convicted in a special church court convened at this castle to try cases concerning witchcraft and sorcery, which were beyond the normal jurisdiction of civil courts. Monseigneur Wolfgang Augustus Hardenberg of Cloister Marten was the residing church chief judge with four priests in his assistance serving as subordinate church judges.  One civil magistrate judge from the local Harz provincial government participated, in an advisory capacity, with the five church judges in these special judicial proceedings against Rosalia.

Everyone in attendance at the witchcraft trial of Rosalia knew what the outcome would be. With that said, the testimony of her victims on public record dragged on for several weeks, to include the final interrogation and confession of witchcraft and supreme evil doings by Rosalia herself.

In her rebuttal statement to the assembled church tribunal, Rosalia actually gained some of her old fire back as she spoke to the group—in a taunting and derisive manner. Rosalia showed no remorse whatsoever for what she had done and perpetrated upon others. She still renounced the Almighty Lord God and did not ask for his mercy and forgiveness. Her love and passion for being and existence was still with her god, Lucifer, who had forsaken her at last in her hour of need during All Hallows’ Eve and the Black Witches’ Sabbath. 

As easy as it might have been at that moment to pity such a pathetic and revolting creature, Rosalia’s hurtful words in complete defiance of God and her taunting mockery and snickering at the victims of her black deeds were beyond the pale of any shred or strand of human decency.

At the conclusion of Rosalia’s rebuttal statement, Monseigneur Hardenberg announced the verdict and sentence of the special church court:

“Rosalia, Black Witch of the Harz and Purveyor of Lucifer’s Evil on this Earth, you are hereby adjudged by this special court of being guilty of the practice of Witchcraft and Sorcery, and the murder of untold numbers victims over the centuries to this present one, and for the malicious corruption of your victims’ souls as they died in torment and faced the reality and agony of eternal damnation. And your acts even against young children and babies are so unspeakable and abominable that they readily defy any iota of rational understanding in our human society here on Earth. All these actions reflect your absolute depravity and lack of regard for human life, and they defy directly the teachings of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. All of your transgressions have been entered into the final record by this assembled court.”

“As a priest and a man of the cloth, I would normally ask the Almighty Lord God to have pity on you and your soul. But you have no mortal soul since you have been in very long service to Satan himself. Once more, you have committed the ultimate sacrilege by renouncing the Almighty Lord God yourself.”

“Therefore, there can be no plea of mercy or divine forgiveness rendered for you by this court on your behalf.  Your final fate and disposition beyond the reach of this court lies ultimately with your master—Satan.”

“It is therefore the judgment of this court that you Rosalia—Black Witch of the Harz—be taken on the next morn’ at dawn to the gallows specially constructed here at Worlerede and this is where you shall be hanged by the neck until pronounced dead, and then your mortal body shall continue to hang for three days on public display, for all to see, and then your mortal body shall be burned by fire while it is still in its hanging position. Your mortal body shall burn until it disintegrates into nothing but fine burnt ashes.”

“In God’s name, this is so adjudged and it shall be done!”
 
As Monseigneur Hardenberg finished his verdict and sentencing, before Rosalia was to be bound and shackled for her departure from the court, he asked her if she had any final words for the court.

At that very moment the wily old hag became extraordinarily animated, and in a wild-eyed uncontrollable manner, jumped high into the air with an energy she had not possessed in a while and made this very provocative pronouncement to the Monseigneur and all concerned:

“Monseigneur you may have me hanged and burned into nothingness, but I shall once again triumph with Lucifer’s will and power behind me for I lay eternally in his bed and seek not Jehovah’s forgiveness and the rapture of Heaven. My Master will restore me once again and resurrect me to return and execute his evil deeds once again here on Earth. It is I who renounce you and all the people assembled in this court. I renounce what all of you stand for. I curse all of you forever, and I shall be there at the very Gates of Hell awaiting the day when I can greet all of and condemn you to eternal hell fire and damnation on my Master’s behalf. A curse of death and eternal damnation be upon you all, and all of the relatives who follow you for future generations to come!”

End of Part Seven

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Four

Rosalia - The Evil Witch of the Harz, Part Four

Rosalia’s Date with Destiny and the Power of Light and Goodness
It is said that the Almighty Lord God works in very mysterious ways . . . 
meaning that even an all-powerful witch like Rosalia had her Achilles’ heel, and could lose her sheen of invincibility in certain instances which date back to the earliest clashes between Good and Evil at the outset of mankind.

With her perfect cover working in a local village Inn near the Brocken, Rosalia could plan, plot and scheme her witchcraft activities at will 
when meeting unsuspecting villagers and outside visitors alike—
giving her near-unlimited control in shaping the very course of events.
Fate would have it, however, that one event would challenge and alter Rosalia’s perfect cover forever . . . 

One day a young girl—named Aurelia, who was barely 15 years old,
visited local village relatives while traveling near the Brocken.
Aurelia, who was quite intelligent and mature for her age was also a 
close relative of the regional church Monseigneur, Wolfgang Augustus Hardenberg, and she was part of a traditional German catholic family. 

Aurelia was a rare child indeed, endowed with “Heavenly Eyes”
from her eternal soul at birth which gave her a unique, unusual gift 
of sensing and seeing the true nature of the men, women, and children
as they came into contact with her . . . without them realizing it. 

Aurelia, with this fantastic gift, was truly one of God’s children,
and the antithesis of Rosalia and the incarnate evil she represented.
Aurelia’s family was fully aware of God’s favor on their daughter
and all of the goodness and light she shared with them in the family.

Aurelia was also quick study; she was endowed with an unusual ability to absorb, understand and remember vast amounts of information and detail.
And while attending religious schools, she demonstrated an exceptional proclivity early on for learning and mastering classical foreign languages. 

Aurelia too was a centuries’ old soul like Rosalia, but whereas Rosalia embraced the Dark Side, and was the very manifestation of evil and debauchery; 
Aurelia embraced the Light and Goodness of the Almighty,
and was one of God’s angelic souls destined to do his bidding in the continuous titanic struggle against Lucifer and his Dark World minions;
she was truly a “Princess of the Light” and a “Precious Child of God.”   

With this in mind . . .
On visiting the local village Inn with relatives one afternoon for lunch,
Aurelia immediately felt the presence of a specter of evil and foreboding.
And this specter was, of course, none other than . . . Rosalia.
Beyond her perceptible sensing and feeling of pure evil,
Aurelia was able to make momentary visual contact with Rosalia,
and with her God-given heavenly vision glanced the true image of Rosalia,
which filled her at once with undeniable dread, fright and revulsion
at the terrible visage cast by Rosalia among her unsuspecting relatives.

Aurelia was in luck since Rosalia felt no reason to suspect her, thus paying no attention to the young girl with her relatives.

Aurelia’s God-given power shielded her from Rosalia’s attention,
at least for now . . .  
From the encounter at the village Inn, Aurelia knew that some of her relatives were already marked by the witch.

After the visit to the Inn, Aurelia immediately informed her unsuspecting parents of the evil incarnate she sensed and discovered at the Inn.

Time was fleeting and quick action would be required to corroborate this event. It was already Monday, and on the upcoming Saturday, which was All Hallows’ Eve on October 31st, Rosalia’s Coven was set to conduct The Black Witches’ Sabbath in celebration of the Devil himself. This evil Sabbath event was done twice a year with the one preceding All Hallows’ Eve occurring on April 30th on the Great Sabbath of Walpurgis Nacht.

The preparation of the Black Witches’ Sabbath would include black rituals and both human and animal sacrifices with the invocation of the Vespers’ Prayer Preparation for Black Mass, followed by a 24-hour period of preparation by the Coven for its next attack on the local villagers.

Riding horseback to the Cloister Marten in the Harz some 20 kilometers away, Aurelia’s father traveled there with two close trusted friends to inform Monseigneur Hardenberg of Aurelia’s unexpected discovery of the infamous and evil Black Witch of the Harz known as Rosalia. 

On hearing of the discovery of Rosalia and her masquerade in human form,
the Monseigneur instinctively knew that immediate action was required, 
and that the very lives of the villagers and their eternal souls were in the greatest of peril.

An immediate meeting with his council of priests at Cloister Marten was in order; there was now a chance that Rosalia and her Coven could be finally 
destroyed forever. This chance event had been a long time coming and the Monseigneur knew that they must not fail.

The Monseigneur also knew that God’s avengers must act smartly . . .
Rosalia was a virulent evil force not to be taken lightly nor underestimated.
Many priests and their parishioners had already succumbed to the Devil 
and his Dark World of eternal damnation, courtesy of Rosalia.

The Monseigneur would need Aurelia’s help in finding Rosalia’s Coven,
and he realized that he and his priests must prepare for the greatest test of their faith, as they contemplated their plan to destroy Rosalia and her spawn of evil.

The Monseigneur understood all too well that to face down Rosalia was almost the same as facing the very Devil himself.

The Monseigneur and his priests must be swift in their vengeance against Rosalia in the name of the Lord, and that a second chance may not be in the offing.

End of Part Four

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


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Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Two

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Two

Rosalia’s Instruments of Evil and Debauchery
Rosalia needed certain tools or instruments of evil and debauchery to successfully pursue her nefandous plans of bringing the people of the Harz countryside under the dominion and control of the Devil. The following instruments could be construed as weapons in and of themselves and were integral to Rosalia’s practice of Witchcraft and Sorcery, and were central to her fervent desire of accomplishing this dastardly goal as she actively sought to corrupt and destroy the souls of her victims. Her bright gems of evil and debauchery included:
 
Necromancy  
As Rosalia expanded her power, control, and influence among the people she became involved in Necromancy, that is to say, the art of predicting events by communicating with the dead. She would use her channeling efforts to enter the spirit world, and in an act of true malevolence, would prompt her spirit contacts to conjure evil dreams and have them pervade the consciousness of her unsuspecting victims. She would, at times, summon Lucifer himself in the midst of all of this to directly maximize her channeling efforts.      

Moleosophy and Wartology  
Rosalia had mastery of the arcane art of Moleosophy and Wartology, whereby she could divine the temperament of people and surrounding future events by spiritually sensing and reading the moles and warts on men and women in a stream of consciousness. Beyond this divining and sensing aspect, this power was also amply reflected in the use of her Black Wart and the use of its bile liquid contents to inflict irreparable harm on her victims and engender absolute fear.

Witch’s Broom  
Rosalia had a Witch’s Broom, serving as her primary mode of transportation for traversing the Harz and for frightening and wreaking utter havoc on her unsuspecting victims.

Black Hen’s Blood
Rosalia used a Black Hen’s Blood gruesomely obtained by beating a black hen to death, and then smearing a small portion of the blood on her human victim or the victim’s clothing— in effect, to transfer the agony of the hen’s death to her intended victim. 

Magic Wand
The Magic Wand made of hazel is another invaluable weapon used by Rosalia as an instrument of indomitable evil force and power as personified in its likeness as a phallic symbol.  Rosalia’s mastery of her Magic Wand enabled her to instinctively react in casting black magic spells on her victims and conjuring an aura of evil spirits to plague and ultimately destroy her victims’ families.

Black Potions
Rosalia brewed alchemic poisonous potions to a horrifying hideous effect,
using them to startle, stun and paralyze her victims with unending fear
while unmercifully taunting and tormenting them with equal evil effect,
and using Witchcraft to destroy once innocent souls and harvest fear.
Rosalia employed her alchemic masterpieces to great effect in gaining control of her victims’ will or desire to resist her evil intentions. Rosalia sometimes used her Black Potions to immediately subdue and poison to death victims who had insulted her and driven her anger to an insatiable lust and frenzy.

Witch’s Dagger   
Rosalia’s Athamé was her special coal-black-colored ceremonial dagger, of course, with a double-edged blade, but in her instance totally black to include the actual blade itself, with the sign of the Pentagram firmly engrained into the dagger’s handle. This was Rosalia’s magical dagger, her tool which she used for ritual black mass ceremonies and to direct psychic energy and to even exact both torture and murder—beyond the normal expected use of such a dagger in a witchcraft ceremony.  

Black Cat   
Whereas a vampire has the power to command his or her “Children of the Night,” and to take the form of a wolf or a bat, similarly, Rosalia could transmute her human form and soul appearance into that of a Black Cat, or on occasion, into that of a White Cat to better mask her nefarious activities and evil intentions.

Black Witches’ Sabbath
Given her power and authority from the Dark One (or Satan himself), Rosalia was so anointed to conduct a Black Witches’ Sabbath two times a year:  April 30th on the Great Sabbath of Walpurgis Nacht and October 31st with Halloween (All Hallows’ Eve). These were the events during which Rosalia summoned the “Goat of Mendes” by which Satan would appear in physical form as a goat or a ram. Rosalia used these special witch coven gatherings on Walpurgis Nacht and Halloween as defining events by which she would give over the souls of her trusted disciples to Satan. She would also recommit her blasphemous Faustian eternal allegiance to the Dark One made over centuries before when she existed in other evil reincarnated soul being forms before becoming Rosalia.

Black Mass 
Intoning, in a shrill repetitive manner six times:  Rosalia recited the Satanist Prayer (Our Father, which wert in Heaven . . .) during monthly Black Mass celebrations and the Black Witches’ Sabbath with her Coven. Rosalia used the transformative power of these events to further energize her disciples and to call directly on Satan to inform him of her evil activities and seek his continued influence and support for her acts of terror, torture, and debauchery—all in his name. Tragically, all of Rosalia’s disciples were lost souls and faced eternal damnation because of their continued association with her.  At the end of the Black Mass rituals all of Rosalia’s disciples were left in a state of unfettered “Humicubation,” whereby they lay on the ground in a state of submission and penitence to her for ever having worshipped the Lord God.

End of Part Two

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


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Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Five

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Five

The Monseigneur knew that they must be successful in this venture as the “Lord’s Madmen” or face the very real possibility of eternal damnation, if they should fail. They had no choice but to risk all in this endeavor. To do nothing and to retreat back to the safe confines of the monastery would consign innocent men, women, and children to a fate worse than death itself—they would be in the hands of the Devil forever.  

God’s Reckoning and Vengeance and the Planned Destruction of Rosalia
Arriving at the village below the Brocken by the early hours on Friday morning, October 30th, the Monseigneur and his priests met with Aurelia and her parents in a chamber room near the alter of the local village church under a marble cast visage of Jesus Christ himself.

They had the rest of the day on Friday and a partial day Saturday, October 31st until 6:00 pm to ready themselves for an all-out assault on Rosalia’s Coven in a deep cave located some 100 meters down from the Brocken summit. Being able to actually find Rosalia’s cave in time was a momentous task unto itself—and might even require divine intervention. Rosalia would quite assuredly conceal and mask its entrance to the uttermost.  

The risk of discovery of their planning efforts by Rosalia and her Coven was now greater than ever.

It was now time for Aurelia to invoke her direct prayer to the Lord,
to seek His blessing and His protection for everyone involved in supporting
the Monseigneur’s efforts in discovering the location of Rosalia’s Coven,
and for ensuring the triumph of the power of light and goodness. 

Aurelia kneeling before the church altar began her prayer to the Lord:

To our Almighty and Most Merciful Lord God, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost . . . 
It is with the greatest of humility and respect that we beseech thy support
in confronting and destroying the Black Witch Rosalia and her Hell Spawn
Minions who serve thy fallen angel known as “Lucifer.”

Oh Lord please hear us in this hour of maximum danger, as the very lives and the very souls of many innocent people are at stake in this great  struggle between good and evil which has been with mankind since Adam and Eve walked the face of the Earth.

We are, Oh Lord, very aware of the immense burdens you carry in the Universe and that mankind is only one of your many divine creations.  
Mankind, after all, was created in thine image. An enormous challenge awaits us from the forces of darkness and pure evil here on Earth in the Harz.  In the name of Jesus Christ—your only son, we earnestly pray for your divine intervention and timely guidance as we must soon confront Rosalia and her minions of evil who worship only Lucifer and the world of darkness at his command.

We thank you for listening to our prayer of urgent need Most Merciful Lord God.  Although our group of church followers will soon be walking through the shadow of night and the valley of death itself, we know that Thou Shall Be With Us, and will give us thine power and strength in overcoming and destroying the forces of evil and darkness.  

AMEN . . . AMEN . . . AMEN, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

Aurelia’s Prayer to God is Answered
At the conclusion of Aurelia’s prayer, Monseigneur Hardenberg and his group of priests met with some trusted local villagers who knew the landscape around the Brocken summit very well. Aurelia had asked to be part of the Monseigneur’s group. Although a young girl, she was a very special young girl, and given the circumstances in spite of the risks the group needed all the help it could find. Aurelia’s help was invaluable. 

The key action was to get the search process underway soonest to find an aperture in and around the Brocken that might yield the entrance to Rosalia’s lair. It was already late Friday morning and the search must commence immediately after the Monseigneur and his party had a chance to rest awhile, for by 6:00 pm on Saturday, the powers of darkness would begin gathering and massing an unconscionable strength and fury as the six-hour countdown to the Black Witches’ Sabbath ceremony would be underway.

Next, by Friday afternoon the Monseigneur and his party journeyed to the vicinity of the Brocken summit and began their concerted search for Rosalia’s cave.

Searching well into the night and into the wee hours of the morning on October 31st—to no avail—the mounting frustration and the growing sense of expectation among the group was both palpable and undeniable. By around 5:30 pm, the search turned into a scene of utter desperation. There was very good chance that they might not find the hidden entrance to Rosalia’s lair in time to disrupt the Black Witches’ Sabbath ceremony. Aurelia could sense the closeness of Rosalia, but even she was helpless to precisely pinpoint the location of the cave.

Aurelia knew instinctively that she had to act. Finding Monseigneur Hardenberg she told him that another prayer to the Almighty Lord God might improve their chances of finding the cave in time to act. And almost instantaneous to their brief discussion, a very large bright light suddenly illuminated itself on the immediate horizon in the deep forested area. As dusk was falling, this radiance of this bright heavenly light was at once as telling as it was compelling. Aurelia knew at that instant mirabile visu that her prayer to God had been answered and that divine intervention was truly at hand.    

End of Part Five

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Six

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Six

Archangel Gabriel and His Force of Heavenly Angels
Upon seeing the radiant, almost blinding light as it lit up even the darkest corners of the forested area, Monseigneur Hardenberg and his party dropped to their knees and in earnest prayer thanked the Lord God for making his presence known to them.

In the distance, the search party could see a large group of light beings with halos. Aurelia’s sensing proved correct. This was the Archangel Gabriel with his trusted group of angels. Perceptively now, Aurelia could both sense and see the entrance to Rosalia’s cave beyond a thick grouping of trees in a small clearing. Archangel Gabriel was pointing the way to them to the cave.

Once more, Aurelia also knew now that Rosalia, despite her vaunted powers of darkness, was actually clueless to the arrival of the angels in the vicinity of her lair. Under God’s power, Archangel Gabriel was shielding and protecting Monseigneur Hardenberg’s search party from detection by Rosalia and her witches.

As it turned out, the search party was there in reality to help and assist the angels as they could when people who were prisoners of Rosalia were freed from her control. The real battle though that was commencing was at the heavenly level now. Archangel Gabriel with his angelic group descended quickly now into the cave immediately followed by Aurelia and Monseigneur Hardenberg and his group . . . The element of surprise was theirs. 

It was now after 6:00 pm and the final preparation for the Black Mass celebration for the Black Witches’ Sabbath to occur at midnight was underway. The key was for the angels to strike decisively before the appearance of Lucifer at midnight.  If they had to confront Lucifer directly, Archangel Gabriel knew he needed God’s direct intervention.

The full force and radiance of the angelic heavenly light permeated the deepest and darkest reaches of Rosalia’s cavern. The witches and the lost soul minions of Rosalia were totally surprised by the sheer light and power of the angelic force. Those who fought and resisted—and there were many—were immediate destroyed. There was still a small grouping of Rosalia’s witches and vassals remaining that immediately surrendered to the superior force of angels and the supreme will of the Almighty Lord God. The surrendering group pleaded for mercy and begged forgiveness and recanted their allegiance to both Rosalia and Lucifer—and then turned to the Almighty Lord God for their ultimate salvation.  It was indeed a truly remarkable sight to behold.  

In the confusion which ensued following the success of the angelic invasion and the demonic capitulation, Rosalia was nowhere to be found. It looked as though she had literally vanished from the face of the Earth. But this proved to be not the case. During the moment of surprise when the angels attacked her dark forces, Rosalia was caught completely off guard and for a moment froze in fear and indecision.  A real first for her. For the very first time, her ability to summon the forces of evil was not possible for her. Her only way out was to turn herself into a Black Cat, a favored creature of hers.

Rosalia’s deception did not last long.  Aurelia alerted everyone to the evil presence of the Black Cat. She knew at once that the Black Cat was indeed Rosalia. The deception was up.  For once, Rosalia could no longer hide. And it looked like even Lucifer had forsaken his prized favored witch and mistress.  Perhaps this could be his punishment for her failure to effect the ritual of the Black Mass as planned and the important celebration of the Black Witches’ Sabbath.  

In the Lord God’s name, and by all of His Power and His Glory, Archangel Gabriel stripped Rosalia of all her magical and other worldly evil powers, to include her spirit of immortality.  With this done, she was now a very old mortal women who looked both disheveled and haggard, but was still quite hideous to look upon by all concerned. Rosalia was released to Monseigneur Hardenberg and his priests for confinement, trial, and eventual execution. 

End of Part Six

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Three

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Three

Vespers’ Prayer Preparation for Black Mass
In preparation for the ritual Black Mass at midnight, Rosalia recites the following prayer incantation which must be rendered latest at 6:00 pm on the eve of the Black Mass. This is a six-hour process that lasts until midnight when the actual Black Mass ceremony formally commences. The Vespers’ Prayer incantation by Rosalia reads as follows:

We Pray In The Name of Our Father Lucifer, 
Which wert in Heaven:

Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth. 

Rosalia’s Sacrilegious Activities and Mask of Deception
Rosalia was very self-aware of her bewitching and beguiling activities,
and her seasoned ancient command of the instruments of evil and debauchery, whether by plan or at will, to execute her nefast activities against all who were innocent and unsuspecting. Her negative actions left an indelible stain and a wicked scar of evil on the spiritual psyche of all of her victims.   

Rosalia was also vividly aware of the Church’s knowledge of witchcraft and sorcery, as written, codified and passed down by two Catholic inquisitors in the Malleus Maleficarum published in 1486. The power of her profane instruments of witchcraft found many of their original associational relationships with certain sacraments and church procedures, but were later corrupted and brought to the dark side to aid the Devil’s work. What was once good, could become instantly impious, if the witches focused their negative efforts and pagan power on corrupting and harming mankind.   

And so, Rosalia understood and appreciated the power and the knowledge
of the Catholic Church concerning matters of witchcraft and the witches’ devotion to evil.  The Church was not unaware of Rosalia’s evil activities, 
but they were confined presently to a local area and were not of a larger regional nature—at least for the time being.

With this in mind and being so informed of the Church, and with the power and influence of the Dark One, Rosalia continued her ruthless, evil crimes
and her heartless, blasphemous activities during periodic nocturnal visits 
in bucolic villages in the Harz countryside.

It was during these so-called “evening activities” that Rosalia’s dark-side mask, that is, her true witch’s countenance shone through and presented her ghastly Gorgon-grimaced face to her chosen victims—men, women, children—with no quarter given. This was Rosalia’s true self, her “evening mask,” but yet her true self.

Yet while during the day, as part of a masterful chameleon-like deception,
Rosalia would appear to unsuspecting people in her “daytime mask”
as a beautiful and charming blonde-haired, blue-eyed lady of young adult age, with a kind and genial spirit who worked in a local Inn in a village close to the Brocken. This was Rosalia’s perfect cover for plotting and conducting 
her wicked and unholy activities.

Rosalia naturally commanded the insatiable power of the black arts
which allowed her to maintain her “normal appearance” for as long as she chose—and yet, she could summon her real dark appearance on a moment’s notice, but preferred the night when her dark-side powers were at their greatest pitch, whereby she could command whatever hell-spawned demons or earthly elements she needed to help and support her evil intentions and deeds.

With the daily reality of this “perfect deception,” Rosalia, with her coven of disciples, could strike with impunity throughout the numerous villages in the Harz countryside, consummating their evil intentions and horrible deeds 
in the name of God’s fallen angel.

Rosalia’s goal was to deceive, corrupt and destroy the eternal souls of as many men, women, and children as possible, while ensuring the maturation and permanence of her power, and the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.

Who could ever imagine that a young beautiful blonde lady who innocently worked in a local village Inn could be one of vilest black spirits in the history of witchcraft?

Could Rosalia and her hell-spawned soulless minions be stopped and brought to justice for their terrible actions and deeds?  

Who would dare challenge Rosalia’s power and the evil she sought to inflict on mankind?

End of Part Three

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Rhyme | |

Whistling Past A Graveyard

whistling past a graveyard Devil may care, but I have no regard I walk among granite tombstones six feet below are boxes full of bones I find myself in a dark, dark room only to realize it's a witch's tomb gravedigger has bodies to retrieve on this night, Saint Hollow's Eve


Details | Sonnet | |

ON HALLOWEEN NIGHT


RUN, I'M WATCHING YOU



Be quiet now, the full moon scrapes the hour
when evil ghouls crawl on bleak streets, unknown 
a gruesome feast they thirst to devour 
the carnage of the living, down the bone.
As midnight howls, dare not open the gates
shadows can transform into bloody paws;
to unplug the light, a rampage awaits
the wailing screech of flesh drilled by chainsaws.
From graveyards of old, more corpses arise
with maggots on tongue gnawing spoiled debris,
and hissing winds darken the view; be wise
since terror reeks a plague like a red sea.

It's witching time; beware of fright undone
Pray... I'm one of them watching you, so RUN!


Gail Doyle's On Halloween Night Contest
9/10/2014


Details | Rhyme | |

The Dark

The Dark


Things start getting creepy

In my bed when I get sleepy

Cause I hear, all the noise

In the attic filled with toys

I sometimes feel a spirit

And I swear, I really hear it

So I cover my head

With the sheets on by bed

I call for Mom and Dad

And I think I'm going mad

When they come to my door

But it's not them anymore

And as the door starts creaking

I can here the voices speaking

Like they're chanting a spell

What they say I can't tell

Louder they keep coming

In my head, I hear them drumming  

Like the sound of hard rain

Till they drive me insane                     


Details | Rhyme | |

The Dark Legend Of Haunted Road

There are roads that seem inviting in the light of day
Only to cast its eerie shadows when the sun begins to go down
Engraving a revealing legend after the darkness has given way
To the blood curdling horror that once terrorized an innocent town

The legend says that years ago a terrible event took place
When a patient known to be psychopathic escaped the institution
The doctors notified the police who immediately gave chase
Though disappointed they became after finding no resolution

On one Halloween night, screams of murder were heard by Haunted Road
Now, no one ever dares to enter those woods where the tragedies took place
Some have sworn that they still hear the screams within suffering echoes
Still see the trail of blood stained puddles that mark his evil trace

It is here that he and his victim's spirits may forever hide
Where voices of the dead lead you to a darkened cabin in the woods
They cannot escape the horror of the way in which they died
Only the brave hearted would dare to go where this cabin stood

A few trick or treaters decided to dare themselves to enter Haunted Road
They convinced themselves that this would end up being just a thrill
Little did they know that evil was waiting for them when they chose to go
The ghost of the psychopath, eager to commit his next kill

They walked along slowly, barely breathing, and listening to the sound
Of another pair of feet behind them, dragging heavily on the pavement
All the kids stopped with their hearts pounding, only to see nothing around
Just the moonlight, a howling wind, and scattered leaves, twisted and bent

A dense fog soon began to fill the air, giving them more of an eerie feel
Still, they proceeded to walk to where they planned to be
A run down cabin slowly came into focus, reminding them that the legend is real
It was then they decided to turn back around quickly

Standing behind them was the killer's ghost, grinning from ear to ear
His red glowing eyes could not hide his psychotic, bloody thirst
The trick or treaters ran to the cabin, thinking, it's time to face our fear
As they approached the door, one said, "okay, now you go first"

One by one the trick or treaters tried quietly to lead the way with regret
Though their footsteps creaked the floor boards of the old wooden floor
It began to thunder and lightning showing the theme in silhouette
Then all of a sudden they heard the slamming of the cabin door

It was locked, there was no escape, they were trapped for certain
In this abandoned place where the victim's bodies were stored
Then near the corner something stirred like a blowing white curtain
Their eyes grew wide with terror, this occurrence couldn't be ignored

Out from the darkened shadows he came into sight
His eyes glowing red, his breath smelled of death
Suddenly, he grabbed hold of one of the trick or treaters that night
While the others tried to break free, out of breath

The cabin door was broken open, they ran through, and heard a scream
From the captured boy in evil's clutches, with his costume now torn
The others were relieved to finally find a way out of this bad dream
They were too afraid to help their friend, and a new legend was born

The two trick or treaters were shaking in their warm beds
Traumatized about the horror they faced from a dark legend
They couldn't believe that one of their friends was actually dead
Left them both wondering if this is really the end

They yawned, and tried to get up, but their hands were tied
Still in the cabin, they had not escaped this living nightmare
As the killer came closer and closer, the young kids just cried
Knowing that their lives would be ended right then and there





Written by: Gail Angel Doyle & Kelly Deschler






Details | Narrative | |

My beloved wife

My beloved wife

It was the crows calling that gave the final warning on this mid October morning.
Just as the mist began falling upon the hills in a strange manner that was almost unnerving.
This morn shall be my final calling as my soul begins souring high above the clouds on this mid October morning.
Signalled by the single rose placed upon my coffin.
Not a healthy rose but one that's wilting, It's red petals fading and it's leaves browning.
It was placed upon my coffin by a loan woman who stands morning on this bitter October morning.

She turns towards home and begins walking, towards my old manor house that now stands rotting.
She passes the spot in the garden where she hid the knife the other morning, just before the police came calling.
Alerted by the chamber maid screaming upon discovering by body laying bleeding.
Murder was the diagnosis, probably by a burglar was the prognosis.
The window was broken and my jewellery was stolen.
They didn't bother to ask about the missing kitchen knife, it was all falling into place for my dearly beloved wife.

As she approached she questions what she saw, large boards placed upon the entrance door.
Upon the door a sign held by a single rusty nail, it read this property is now for sale.
Due to deceased occupants an auction will now take place, in gods grace she calls out from behind her veil of lace.
This can't be true, I felt the morning dew seep through into my newly bought shoe, she pauses for breath as she begins to think things through.
Now the truth begins dawning that it was her soul and not her body that left the hill this morning.
We are now two souls exploring, one up and one down on this bitter October morning.


Details | Free verse | |

A Halloween story

One dark and dreary night many, many moons ago
myself and a friend coming home from the local disco
no names mentioned smiling . . .
and in the far distance we could see and hear three girls
laughing and giggling and having fun 

This was Halloween Night or All Hallows' Eve . . .
and so we climbed up the nearest evergreen 
barely breathing, holding our breaths . . .
so they would not hear us and sense our presence
the one directly in the middle as they neared us
in passing a quick clip at the back of the head said 
do you want to hear the screams roaring out of
them away hammer and tongs up the road

We could hear them shouting and carrying on . . .
I'm sure that place is haunted
to this day they tell their story claiming it to be real
well better still was to come for both of us 
laughing our hearts out giggling like madmen
 
I felt like a gruesome hand of ice just touched me . . .  
the tremors ran down my spine
jolting me in a most terrible way
almost felt like a gripping sensation on my shoulder 
almost falling of the tree with a roar
 
My good friend starting screaming making it worse . . . 
saying somebody must of touched us the same time
we looked at each other and made a race to get home 
just got really spooked and ran the whole 3 miles home 
in a record time ever saying my holy prayers every stroll of the way . . .
a most hideous and macabre thought -- a ghost touched me 
as the cold ran right through me chilling me to the bone
never was I as glad to see holy water in the house 
I bless myself for being lucky  
never ever have I pulled such a prank 
from that night to this . . .
 
It backfired on us so we chose never to say
a word about it ever again!!
And now we can only say: BOO!! BOO!! BOO!!
And Happy Halloween!!
 
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman, Free Verse Collaboration (October 13, 2014)


Details | Rhyme | |

On Halloween

On Halloween night, do you dare go out into the full moon light?
Zombies and scary creatures are out there with their terrible sighs
your mind will be filled with such horrid delight, while witches on
their broomsticks will go flying by.

Darkness will be upon the street where you and others live
all Hallow's Eve is full of freight and always gives such a shiver
everyone at their door, tricks or treats they do and shall give
and spooky laughter in a dark... dark room, they also shall deliver.
 
Masked faces and ghost every where you look, never
know if it is real or just a Halloween costumed look.
Your heart will beat wildly with such a loud chatter
and every time someone screams, all your friends will 
scatter.
 
On Halloween night stay close to your friends real tight
and do not forget to bring you a flashlight, for you may end up
in a dark and haunted graveyard before the end of the night.
Werewolves and vampires they all do live in there and
always walk with caution, and care or you may fall deep
into their lair.




Details | Couplet | |

Scary Moments

Something’s lurking in the shadows. Something’s hiding in the dark.
Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something out there wants to get me! I am losing my sang-froid.
Something wants to disappear me. I’m not being paranoid!
 
I used to have a neighbor woman--We cannot find her anywhere.
When I called for some patrolmen.  They did not show ‘cause they don’t dare!
Something outside isn’t human-- or at least not anymore.
A cannibal or psycho axeman, or just a clown covered with gore.

I’ve got the willies something fierce. Those shivers just won’t go away.
I’m not ready for the hearse. Too scared to run…too scared to stay.
Someone’s walked over my tomb, or given me the evil eye.
Something’s out there in costume--Trick or treat, it’s time to die!

Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something’s lurking in the shadows.  Something’s waiting in the dark.


Details | Couplet | |

The Evil Jack O'lantern

Walking near the Old Dark House under a morose moon sky,
I spied a furtive glance at Old Demon Jack’s big ugly evil eye.

This Jack O’lantern is not by any means a friendly funny face,
For he makes your blood run cold with a leering gruesome grimace.   

While looking at people with a distinct Mephistophelian delight,
Both of Old Demon Jack’s eyes give all a quite palpable fright.

This Jack O’lantern sits perched by the Old Dark House front door, 
Waiting for each Halloween to seek its revenge and even the score.

Old Demon Jack’s spirit eternally lives on in this undying fruit gourd,
Annually resurrected for Halloween—one of the Devil’s own horde.

This Jack O’lantern is indeed a macabre physical object from Hell’s pit,
And Old Demon Jack’s spirit lives there possessing souls as He sees fit.

On Halloween beware of the Old Dark House there on Old Hob’s Lane,
As Old Demon Jack and The Devil, will cause you agony and unending pain.

Now you know this is not the house on Halloween to make a trick or treat,
For in the end it will be your final destination and you’re The Devil’s Treat!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 25, 2014)


Details | Rhyme | |

Alive

Something as awakened you,
your bed is soft and silky too.
You start to feel around,
side to side, up and down.
Then, you freeze,
screaming inside your mind.
Your mouth has been sutured shut,
seems you have been buried alive.


Details | Rhyme | |

On Halloween Night

From depths of Hell I hear them cry
And close my eyes as they float by.
They chill my bones I don’t know why
And think it’s now my time to die,
As my face turns green.
Some of them they hold their head
It seems they don’t know that they’re dead.
I feel so frightened in my bed,
Each time it’s Halloween.

The stench of Zombies in the streets,
Vampires sucking blood just for treats,
The Rippers head bows as he greets,
All these things they give me the creeps
And make my face turn green.
Dracula, his hair slick he grooms,
As Witches fly on crooked brooms.
In shadows hide ghost’s fresh from tombs
Each time it’s Halloween.

Goblins make such horrible sounds,
Their screeches heard all over town.
Tombstones they rise up from the ground,
There’s no relief from grief I found,
That makes my face turn green.
Frightening scenes in neighbour’s yard,
Dripping black bones from Christians tarred,
I pray that Angels will me guard
Each time it’s Halloween.


09.02.2014


Details | Quatrain | |

Pumpkin Pulp

Pumpkin Pulp a hunger real.
Toothless meal a vomit fill.
Rumpy flesh to hold the meal.
Tasty strands of flavour seal.

Pits of seeds for spitting out.
White tidbits all hard and stout.
Strands of web to reach the heart.
Spirits strong where pressures part.

Fetch the scoop to scoop out goop.
Scrape the wall and cause it droop.
Oust the pulp on old newpapers.
Save the seeds to fry in vapours.

Pumpkins lit and glowing lanterns.
Angled eyes shine light in patterns.
Flickered smiles from waxy wicks.
Labotomys, the night of tricks.


Details | Free verse | |

The Spectres Wife

The Spectres Wife Suzy Blue 

It came as no surprise every Halloween night that the towns people 
Were found huddled together in the old saloon with liquor on their breath
Recanting tales of Halloween past, stories that would make you’re nape
Tingle with foreign hair.

There was that one time, when all the windows and doors slammed shut 
Screams were heard from the inside of the Nordels house, by the time 
The police got there, it was too late, they were all found dismembered 
And the only clue they retrieved was a note scribbled in blood, 
“It was Suzy Blue” she made me do it.

On Halloween of 1962 the headlines in the new paper read, “Missing crew”
Is it a case of abduction or another case of Halloween haunting, this time 
No note was found on the premises.  Spooky and unsettling was the fact 
the brigantine ship had a white gown sullied in blood attached to 
it’s mast.  The fabric was from the era dating circa 1800 

As Toby the bartender was about to pour his next draft, the 
Front door opened wide letting in a gust of wind, and then, SLAM!
The sheriff, hand on gun crouched behind the bar, while all the others
Stood frozen, eyes riveted on the closed door.  An eerie presence made 
Itself known, the room suddenly turns cold, and the scent of gardenia 
Spices the room with it’s pungency.  

On all saints day, another circle of fear is induced as the people gather 
To pay their respects to the faithful patrons of “Whistle Creek Saloon”
Coronas clustered with potent scents of carnations and gladiolas stood 
Erect before a dozen lined caskets.  No one dared mention her name, 
For fear that her presence would resurge in the morning light.  

To be continued…


Details | Rhyme | |

Halloween Witch

Halloween is finally here,
she has had to wait a whole year.

She brushes the dust from her broom
and flies out the window into the gloom.

Looking for belladonna that is blue,
for making up her witches brew.

So, if you see her fly overhead,
you had better hurry and jump into bed.

She is looking for little boys and girls too,
going to stick them in her yummy beef stew.


Details | Free verse | |

A Cold Dark Yellow Hallow Moon

A Cold Dark Yellow Unhallowed Moon

A cold dark yellow unhallowed moon smiles beguilingly
In the pitch black starless and cold empty night sky 
Suckling upon the blood and the very life force of 
Pure innocence, light, and goodness . . . .

Fear stirs eerily in the forlorn sound of a fog horn that’s
Blowing and crying a sad echo haunting far in the distance
It warns of the imminent arrival of a malevolent Hellspawn 
Force of absolute unmitigated evil . . . The Phantom Vampire.

As the Phantom Vampire materializes from nowhere in the 
Darkest shade of night blanketed in the thickest of fog and 
The coldest of night air . . . One can sense with utter fear 
And foreboding shivering sounds touching from the shadows
Creeping softly cold fingers down the spine with walking 
Fingers crawling inside a prism of frozen ice and in a mist 
Of souls crying in the presence of demons while yearning lust 
Of one blanket covering the sky’s face painted showing 
Hell’s own hideous face—an exquisite evil and a spirit
Drunken and moaning in an eternal fiery abyss of 
Suffering and howling sounding their own lust for pain 
Great darkness grips them who walk this troubled Earth
Without joy casting happiness to the lepers always and
Forever chained to the darkness and eating out hope
In the very end . . . . 

From this spider’s web and nest of dark perpetual evil
The Phantom Vampire transforms himself from ethereal
Form to his human form quite frightening indeed for
Any human being gazing at his grim countenance and
His most fiery red eyes glaring intently whenever he
Encounters an unsuspecting soul . . . and the sight of 
His razor-sharp canine teeth bring on convulsive fear 
In the hearts and minds of his intended victims . . . . continued 


Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 6, 2014)


Details | ABC | |

Wishing Witch

            Wishing Witch 

My Halloween screenplay is funny as can be
It’s funny how witchcraft is what we need to see

Brewing up trouble with all your classmates
The teacher will get angry, make no mistake

Crazy riddles from a child can be so scary
Being her classmate leaves you feeling wary
							
You may start a princess and end as a boar
As her riddles will leave you in an uproar

Will you return to normal after all this nonsense
Is the question that has everyone in suspense

You may not have believed in the paranormal
But you will start to see the proof is abysmal 

Trick-or-treating can be more than a trick
As Jenny needs to get out of this fix

Laughter that gets you jumping off your seat
This screenplay is hilarious, that  you’ll see

So if you’re looking for some trouble
To get you out of your bubble
Go to the site, quick and on the double		

By: Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : http://youtu.be/XBmxebcXT0c   




Details | Free verse | |

A Cold Dark Yellow Hallow Moon 2

continued 

The Phantom Vampire’s ritual on the foggy nights of the
“Cold Dark Yellow Unhallowed Moon” is to drink the blood 
Of as many young innocent people as he can all the while 
Destroying their lives and tormenting their souls in an 
Unending Existence of evil and debauchery as minions of 
The Undead . . . . 

As a servant of Lucifer himself, the Phantom Vampire’s 
Principal charge is that of a “Soul Seeker”— and seeking 
Them he does quite successfully while destroying lives  
This unending process is interrupted only by the dawn of 
The next day’s morning as the bright rays of sunlight warm 
The Earth and purify and sanctify the power and purpose of 
The Almighty Lord God . . . . 

As a priest . . . a man of the cloth in this bucolic Irish village
Along the sea coast, I hold my head in shame and revulsion
At the evil escapades rendered by the Phantom Vampire
During his nocturnal visits to feed on the blood and souls 
Of our innocent people . . . .   

I always turn and talk to God while earnestly praying for their 
Blind souls through their gossamer eyelids and seeking the 
Lord’s divine protection and delivery from this most dark and 
Wretched evil . . . May the bright sunlight show them the 
Road to true happiness during the Feast of All Souls and to the 
Gates of Salvation . . . .

With no fear and with most clear purpose in mind and the divine 
Support of our Almighty Lord God in Heaven . . . I shall be the 
One fulfilling God’s charge in driving that long wooden stake— 
Blessed with Holy Water and Angel’s Dust—through that 
Evil dead putrid heart of the Phantom Vampire! 

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem, 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 6, 2014)


Details | Rhyme | |

The Halloween Evil Witches

The witches are brewing you know something,
And from all over the world they're coming
As they're as happy as they can really just be
This is their favorite night, and they can do anything.

They're brewing for you double and double trouble,
With magical potions, bat wings and lizards to gobble
They're casting for you more and more double disaster,
As they all mix their potions and chant to their DarkMaster!


Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
Copyright@2014

September.13.2014




Details | Free verse | |

Beneath a Dire Moon

The moon hovers there, shining aloft,
its form the infamous crescent,
its glow so luminous as to reveal the rest of the orb,
oft-hidden when its time in the sky is not nigh.

Underneath, a fog coats the cold ground.
It floats eerily around everything in its path,
twisting here and there, suffusing the darkened morning
with a fell feel, secrets behind every bush and tree.

As my fellows and I trudge past a field to our left,
the mist reveals the obstacles we placed there afore;
in the sun, just part of training, procedure - 
in these cruel environs, an ominous vision.

Barbed wire raises from a fence line
like the hackles of an angry beast;
threatening even we who emplaced it with its edges,
taunting our easily pierced flesh to embrace it.

Bunkers hunker down by the edge of the wood,
barely glimpsed openings once promising solace -
in this haunting setting they appear more as gaping maws,
showing to the world only a presence and visage of hunger.

Meant to hamper the enemy, defend those who built them,
on this macabre morn they serve more to menace their own.
Our bristling band hurries to pass that brooding breadth,
the horned moon vanishing at last from our unsettled sight.


Details | Free verse | |

The Spectres Wife Part Two

He waited patiently on the porch as the children filed up to his door two by two.
“What will it be sonny? A tootsie roll or a rocket, speak up son, I’m half deaf”
The skeleton dressed child shot him a furrowed look of disbelief Oh WOW! Now 
That’s a cool costume!  The children stared at the decrepit old man with asphyxiated skin, unaware of the circuitry beneath, no blood pumped in that rattled old vessel, it was the late departed Mr. Needle who died in a drowning accident, or so the papers say.
But why oh why was he wearing only one red shoe?  

Meanwhile inside, the lady of the house was primping and teasing her flaxen 
Hair.  She applied a thin line of magenta rouge on her paling lips. Spiders 
scurried round her cadaverous bony ankles as she stirred the poisoned candy.
With a long jagged prong she caroused “adders fork blinders sting make this
candy sweet with zing” Two bony hands greedily rolled the candy into black
 cellophane paper “Nose of turk and tartars lips let them eat without a quip” 
then she showed up at the door shelling out in joyful squeal “Come now 
children eat and soon little piggies you’ll be meat!” 

The following morning the townspeople showed up with pitchforks and 
nooses.  They wanted to hang the ghosts that had caused so many young
ones to perish.  Derling woods became a place of doom.  They found the 


To be continued...
log house empty except for two coffins lined in crushed velvet.  Black 
roses hung wilted from the ebony caskets.  A note attached to the silk
“When the moon shall bleed a thousand fold and then shall be no more  
When the devil spawns a child of light, only then we’ll come no more 
Yes it was her, Suzy Blue that cursed the bats, and turned them into stew
I wouldn’t go to sleep tonight in case she comes back, FOR YOU!


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The Haunting In New York

The Haunting In New York
by Country Girl46
It was Halloween night, I walked around town watching the kids
go trick or treating from house to house, except one house they forbid 
anyone to go near. 

I heard that ever since I was a kid, too.
Since I was older, I figured what they said was just a story, wasn't true.

The wind picked up and began to blow hard, leaves were all over the street, too,
pumpkins were smashed, and when I stepped in front of the house, had no clue
what I was getting myself into.

I opened the door, I stepped in and felt my heart pounding faster, an eerie 
feeling I got when the door slammed behind me and locked. I got teary
eyed for fear set in.

Blood started to go across the ceiling, down the walls, across the floor. 
The windows started to shake and rattle, upstairs the bedroom doors
opened and slammed.

Ghosts flew by, causing my hair on my neck to rise,
Shackles and chains began to rattle in the attic
A witch appeared, casting spells on me,
Was hard to make out what ever body was saying for there was so much static

She went to tie my hands together, I looked down and screamed, it was
a snake wrapped around my wrists
hissing at me, my face was white cuz
the blood in my face drained.

As the clock struck midnight, everything disappeared, it was like
it had been before.  The adrenaline in me made me so very siked .
Got the hell outta there and never returned. 


© Melanie . All rights reserved, a day ago


Details | Rhyme | |

The Circle

The darkness hovered around the camp
A black lighter held high over our heads as a lamp
Eyes shining bright from the flicker of light
As the storyteller told a story of fright
As the climax was reached, our eyes open wider;
Just then…
a cool breeze…
blew out the lighter…
The darkness enveloped our circle whole…
The eerie silence was deafening…
 the fear gripped our souls…
The shadows encompassed us…
we couldn’t see it we felt… 
Were they cold hands? 
Perhaps…
Like ice when it melts….
Moved around our shoulders…
our necks…
 	down our backs…
 They hovered above like they planned to attack.
Then swoosh went the wind, the boy beside me vanished…
The screams of the children echoed in panic…
One boy gone…
then the other…
the screams.
grew so thin;
My feet lifted off the ground…
Could this be the end?

I hovered above the camp, no reason to fight;
I guess this is the end of my story tonight.
I looked at the face of my phantom attacker…
I turned blue.
Its mouth opened up with a resounding…….
BOO!!!


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LIVED IN ME

***( Consider this my tribute to Edgar Allen Poe )***


I met the ones that crawl below.
Not so very long ago.

When failing legs did cause the fall.
That brought me to their garden wall.

And as I laid among the leaves.
beneath the tall and brawny trees

My bones took on a dreadful chill.
And breath would ceased as I lay still.

For now the ones that crawl below.
Will soon begin to ebb and flow.

And as they move with greater haste,
Hungry now for just a taste.

They enact their grisly trade.
In the garden where I laid.

And so begins the ghoulish feast,
For all the little squirming beasts.

For as they feast they will be,
The last of all that lived in me.


Details | Rhyme | |

Halloween Night

Goblins, ghouls, and monsters too,
walk this night to terrify you.

They creep, they crawl,
leaving blood trails on the wall.

Twisting, slithering,
with bodies that are withering. 

Hungry for flesh,
preferably young and fresh.

So, lock the doors, turn out the lights
and pull the bed covers up tight.

Then pray you are not eaten alive,
now that Halloween has arrived.


Details | ABC | |

Shadows Beneath Me

                                     A spirit appears at night,
                                       showing its cold eyes,
                                    simply glaring at it in fright,
                                    a memory I couldn't erase,
                                    for that spirit had my face.

                                      With its red eyes glows,
                                  it disappears from the shadows,
                                even when I was walking at night,
                                     no man, woman or child,
                           but feel that same presence behind me,
                                  but there was no one in sight.

                                  even though I continue to walk,
                             I can feel a cold chill beneath my feet,
                             that spirit only appears in the shadows,
                            not a speck of moonlight or a single spark,
                                 enjoying itself hiding in the dark.

                                    it rises beneath the ground,
                                       showing its ugly frown,
                                with its eyes looking dead at me,
                                        beware the shadows,
                                    for it's never been foreseen,
                                       beware in the night,
                                      because it's Halloween.