The Haunted House
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
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2018
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