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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The Haunted House So vacuous this winding road A rainy eve for man, not fit As shivers course my dampened skin My vehicle, this place does quit When through the pines these eyes do spy A silhouette of monstrous feel Of glass and mortar, scattered seed My Lord, a house, can this be real It stood alone, o’ shadowed crawls Deserted docks of scattered stain Rotted wood beneath my feet Rusted hinges scream in pain A single flame, the candle fire A rapid dance upon the breeze Found, the stairway lined with blood Ascending high above the trees A sudden noise, the walls they breathe Like someone dragged on landing bare A voice, a raspy spoken word A warning, oh my heart doth share Musty halls o’ ripped and tattered Faded coverings shed their dust A turning knob, an entry opened Enter if you truly must Death, the smell, it reeks this place Locked away of deeds long past Hidden, yet the prize I seek Felt of boney fingers cast A chill does travel down my spine I fumble for my trusty knife Protection from the figures dark I fear to lose my very life What place is this upon the moor Of crashing waves and battered stone A remnant of its former self And I now wander all alone The moon in clouded skies this night Hath broken free and shone its glow Creates a haunting atmosphere An urging of myself to go Yet still I feel the need to search Through cluttered shelves, my mind doth track To find perhaps a treasure lost Then wage my life to bring it back When there upon the mantle sits An urn of golden grand design Brazen as a captured wish This now, a treasure shall be mine Upon its face, of hand inscribed A warning in poetic verse Four simple lines to now beware This poem fields a wicked curse "All ye whom enter of this place Of sacrifice and love lost pain Dare not these ashes to remove For thee shall never leave again" So quick of feet I make my haste In scramble to the painted door Then, slam; before my eyes it shuts A whisper, “Ye shall leave no more.” Apparitions, ghostly shapes Now flood into the sitting room Some faces I seem to recall Fate hath brought them to their doom My hands before my face they fade These eyes they can no longer see I float unto the heavens high Oh Lord what hath become of me It stood alone, o’ shadowed crawls Deserted docks of scattered stains As this shall be my resting place For I shall never leave again 08/28/18 For the Haunted House (Scare me or make me laugh) Poetry Contest Sponsored by Dear Heart
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