Quatrain Mystery Poems | Quatrain Poems About Mystery

These Quatrain Mystery poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Mystery. These are the best examples of Quatrain Mystery poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quatrain |

My Torment

A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me
A sudden overwhelming desire to run
The tell tale taste of metallic flakes
Means my nightmare has begun

Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor
A landscape of anguish and corrosion
A moment of silence before the violence
The flash of light, the brilliant explosion

The sound of the Sun fills my ears
Fear, my throat, though none escapes me
And paralyzed I clench my eyes
As my tormentor prepares to rape me

And it's endeavor is absolute
Consumption is its ultimate goal
It exists to chase me so it can erase me
Whilst feasting on my soul

And then that familiar salty smell 
The sudden rush of warmth so stings
Engaging me relentlessly
In vile unspeakable things

Over and over and over again
My limbs stretched and wrought
As it's teeth tear my bones bare
It's mind defiles my thoughts

And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds
As in the mouth of madness I suffer
And with every injury he just seems to be
Rougher and rougher and rougher

Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases
And for a moment I am clearer
And then the true horror of it all
Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror

There in front of me stands my destroyer
Face flush with it's fill of my pain
And I find that it's eyes and mine
My God, they’re one in the same

Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2011

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Night Owl

Sitting by her open window,
Was a girl deep in thought,
Lost within a book of Poe,
A perfect poem she sought.

With a curious eye,
He watches her pen,
For she gives it a try,
Every now and then.

He will visit her forevermore,
In silent hours of midnight,
Casting his shadow on her floor,
Within the full moonlight.

Mysterious, nocturnal bird,
Calling out to darkened land,
Speaking such wise word,
Which I cannot understand.

I am lonely, I must confess,
It's just you, me and the moon,
You are much like me, I guess,
So, please sing me another tune.

A messenger of death,
Wailing songs of a banshee,
Has my grim reaper cometh,
Was this warning meant for me?

My soul was projected,
In the shadow of a fowl,
A raven I had expected,
Not the silhouette of an owl!

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

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Mystic Tinklings

                   Mystic Tinklings

Mystic tinklings
	Ancient echoes from the past
Fleeting inklings
	Glimmer just beyond your grasp

Phantom footfalls
	When you know that you’re alone
Echoed choircalls
	Of a long forgotten song

Shadows slipway
	From the corners of your eye
Darkened hallways
	Hints of time passed by

Brief reflections
	Of things you did not see
Vast collections
	Of the things that used to be

Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2010

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The Gift

My family had always told me
About ‘our gift’ since I was a small girl
That allowed us to feel the spiritual,
And see things not of this world

I ignored them until, at the age of sixteen
I’d gone out with a friend for the night,
We were being walked home by her father
When we encountered an unusual sight

As we giddily ambled along a dark road
A cloaked woman came into view
She drew closer, until we met face to face 
Then she spookily walked straight through

My friend’s father, who seemed oblivious to this
And continued to walk on home
As he said nothing, and nor did my friend
I was sure the sighting had been mine alone

But I asked them both if they’d seen her
They said that I’d had too much drink,
‘She sees spirits as well as drinks them’
My friend’s father said, with a wink

We never spoke of that night again
But that sighting wasn’t my last
I’ve had more ‘paranormal’ experiences
As I’ve grown and years have gone past

I just have to step into old buildings
To feel a ‘vibe’ and become aware
Of the energy held within its walls, 
And tell if ‘spirits’ walk there

When I visit an ancient monument 
That is surrounded by fields of war,
I can hear the sounds of the battles
And cries of those who have gone before

Sometimes it can be disconcerting
As bad energy can be a pain
But I wouldn’t be without my special ‘gift’
Or change my life with the unexplained.

This poem has been written for Danielle Whites 'Time Warp' contest

Copyright © Janette Fisher | Year Posted 2009

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White wolf, I bleed for you

Once upon a time
Distant memories 
Dawning of morning crystals
Glittering reminder of starlight tears
In sunbeam's brilliance
Lighting jewels shine
Songbirds break into chorus
The smallest fragment of a breeze alerts
The senses whistling
Melodies explode
Through the branches leaves lament
Observing nature's space hold in colors
Fruit of tenderness
Mellow your sunshine
Blossoms love supreme touching
Fingers raise deep golden feelings yearning
Addresses one's heart
Lonely dust remains
Breathing breathless light explores
In darkness echoes bounce off deep caverns
Cold howling shivers
Devouring warm blood
Into the bones whistling ice
Winds voice of the lost souls' eyes turn bright green
As the spirit leaves
Dark moldy shadows
Light of moon sources cravings
Beauties kiss eclipses rose bleeds scarlet
Immortal heartbeats
Life stops ticking bang
Seduced black velvet pleasure
Sinking fangs into the succumbing heart
Drum beats slow echo
Fallen unchained truths
Slithering lizards crawling
Underneath the skin a beastly vision
Storm roars through timbers
Translucent blood slime
Flowing toxic energy
Mutating hollers screech into wolf moon
Scalding hot flames breathe
When red embers burn
Into the lustful ashes
Born inside scarred remains breathing wounds
An itch that scratches
Onto the mindset
Greenish cornea expands
Opening curtains in a split second
Haunting prey on light
Affliction of need
Rasping rattle in the throat
Death yowls airless scream without sun visions

A Collaborated Poem with Liam McDaid and Angeline Lim

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2016

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In The Dark Ghost Room

I think feel a breeze
A breeze and a touch of horror
Something makes my breath seize
The stings of inner torture

The beast  of  the dark just passes
I hear the pings of its awfulness
Horrible snuffs complementing terrible masses
Something  grip me here – oh fearfulness!

Now what – silence…
The quietness of  the  graveyard 
I sense trouble in disguise
Only that worse turns bad

Oh wait, I can see
Slow approaches of eye balls
The burning eyes of the black beast
Monster, you, coming for me or my pulse

This is it my adventure fiasco
In the ever-dark ghost room
I would rather die like a hero
Behind this locked door with my rheum

As  I’ll  lay my back on this door
Oh beast feast, on me feast
I can hear quacks as I fall
…the door open at least

Massacre! Oh massacre of the beast
Sun ray-the enemy of the dark monster
Came in for its burnt feast 
Because the door opened

Copyright © Timothy Abegunde | Year Posted 2011

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The Valley of the Kings


		About ten years ago in the Valley of the Kings,
		a place that holds a wealth of many ancient,  precious things,
		a group of Egyptologists and others gathered round
		a tomb they'd soon be opening. Nobody made a sound.

		The eager archaeologists were hoping that, inside,
		they'd find the mother of King Tut; this hope would be denied.
		An unexpected treasure held them spellbound, for they gazed
		at something they'd seen just in drawings; thus, they were amazed.

		The tomb held woven laurels made of flowers that had bloomed
		in ancient days. Three thousand years ago, they were entombed.
		Perhaps they were remains of garland that, along with gold,
		Egyptian royals wore for an embellished look so bold.

		Some coffins from this area do not hold the remains
		of the elite of Egypt. We have learned that some contain
		embalming caches to prepare those with prestige and power
		for burial, and some hold dried remains of once-sweet flowers.

information from National Geographic News, June 2006

posted February 17, 2016

entered in Brian Strand's Contest 232 (any theme or form, 16-line max) on  November 1, 2016

Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016

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The Door

Noah’s ark was real not a fiction
It had a door to escape God’s affliction
Noah delivered a warning message
But the folks mock their own presage

Men grew in sin and matured in transgression
And ignored Noah’s loving confession
The Door stood open a long time
Until time begin to climb

The Lord finally shut the Door
And the rain begin to pour
120 years of grace finally came to a halt
God administered judgment by default

The Door was a glorious type of Christ
He was the Lamb of God who was price
Jesus said “I am the Door of the sheep”
He is the only Door of that Great ship

Jesus is our Door of salvation
Wherein we enter and float as new creation
Behold He stands at your door this day and knock
Let Him in, you’ll find pasture as a partaker of His Holy flock

Then said Jesus unto them again, Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep- John 10:7

Copyright © Gideon Foli | Year Posted 2013

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The Lady In Red

The lady In Red

She missed out on the green silk dress; it was sold before she did buy
But when the red dress came to the store she did not let this one pass her by
The Lady in Red as she became known set out to dazzle and beguile
She would turn many a head with such a dazzling sexy smile.

This femme fatal set off, not realising the power she did now hold
The swaying of the hips, she was indeed a picture of beauty to behold 
Its low cut neck did display a white décolleté of rare fine beauty
Many came and offered his hand, on one knee as was his duty

The Lady In Red was not easily won, her heart she kept hidden away
Those that tried to win her, found there was a hefty price to pay
The lady in the fire red dress, sashaying down the street
Had them stepping out of doors, and stopping cars just to meet.

One day the Lady In Red fell in love, and then the problems did start
She found there was a price to pay, when she wanted to give her heart
From praying to the devil one day, a dazzling beauty she asked to be
He answered her request with a warning; “Your soul will belong to me.”

She was willing to pay any price to wear the red dress so beguiling
She didn’t look behind her or she would have seen the Devil smiling
The fine print on her request to the Devil, she did not bother to read
‘Your heart and soul will belong to me that’s the payment for your greed.’

The Lady In Red could not give love, just sashay far and wide
Sweeping young bloods off their feet, then casting them out with evening tide
Her heart would have broken, if it was still hers to keep
The young man she fell in love with, was the one that made her weep

He promised love and devotion if only her heart she could give
When she said that didn’t belong to her, he didn’t want to live
She tried to shed some tears but the devil dried them with his fiery finger
“Next time you want something so bad, you better not let your eye linger.”

You asked for dazzling beauty, you promised you were willing to pay
Don’t come weeping to me because you have given true love away
Beauty was more important to you than a genuine heart full of love
You can take this young blood with you, and join as the hand in a glove

But this love you found, this love you desire, the price must still be paid
You can take this handsome youth, but under the ground he must be laid
His life I ask in full recompense and then your love to him you can give
But it will have to be in this lifetime, because you will not be allowed to live.
© ~GG~3/12/2012

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012

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Tried & Tested - into the sunset

I am so far out of my element
It almost seems unreal
When in truth, which I always seek to find
Pretence is all that I feel
In this, my second language
I aim to express the glistening skin
That hides the shallow graves of conscience
Trapped so deep within
The pottery I shape in craft
Though pedistilled and on display
A camouflage that’s merely drafted
words of wisdom most portray
And in the spirit of fairness
As a virtue which we all possess
Accept my resignation
For this sport has had its best 
I’m off to party hard and waste
My life as best as I know how
The animal within this chest
Needs freedom to survive for now
The playing game of words
is but a winding road that’s filled with stone
I’m parched in parts unheeded
As my cluttered soul heads home

Copyright © Brandon Basson | Year Posted 2006

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Silent One

              Silent One

Silent One rises with the solar system dawn
Drawn by solace in the quiet morning  
Riding on the gravitational waves 
Through numbered stars through dark matter there

Watching zeros mix, blend into the cosmic mist 
Numerically correct seen whole among black holes disguises
Into tomorrow out there in themselves as distances
On the lip, inclining on their axis, universes eclipse then passes

Back at home, outside on roaming fields
Look up with them to take the solar system in
As it folds within a timeless bending scheme
Vast sky-capes emanating mostly quiet
Silent One remains intent, contemplative, waving
Stays out there for hours on a lounge chair tending day
Sipping tea beneath the harmless trees in shade
Sits serenely by, out of sight, time slipping by

Golden sun light streaming over day
Seen are the red and yellow flowers
Green grass peeks through abundant colors glow
Moved in a gentle wind to mesmerizing horizons end
Out there between the wilderness serenity and madness 
Night comes on, explores the greater cause
Stars rain down, escapes the cosmic grip
Secrets kept, only to forget them when looking to the void

Lines traced in history, erased, once enjoyed                                       
Silent One stands alone between a zero to the left
Two at the right numerically correct
True in place, quantified, residing

One and History rewind themselves, recite the story
Not to worry.  There is always more to tell 
A time fast forward quickens to the One original
One will always be the Silent One and not another

Fate will lead us off the silent planet
Earth is temporarily our home
Inevitably fading away into the silence black
Like Silent One, just that

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2016

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In the Mist of Life

In the mist of life, I have found myself
  lost and alone in a wood dark and gray.
A chill to the bone, a fall to the depth
  a longing to feel the warm rays of day.

There was but one road which ran to a church.
  There was many roads that ran far in the wood.
Like a fool I have run past Elm and Birch
  this lost road turned to a trail where I stood.

 A dark cloud now forms a narrow cold sky
  a wind from the North, which blows coastally. 
My choice brings no answer only a sigh 
  it made years ago and so willfully.

Weary am I of a life on this path
  wishing to visit my option again.
Fearing my Lord or fearing His wrath 
  I backtrack this road but only in vain.

Before me a puzzle of rock and stone  
  reaching far back before a road in time 
planted me deep in a mist with no tone 
  searching for a life, that I could call mine.

This narrowing track turns back on itself,
  the undergrowth soon will stand in my way.
In the mist of life, I have found myself
  Lost and alone in a wood dark and gray.

Copyright © Mike Samford | Year Posted 2007

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You make me feel numb

I do believe in magic
I so believe in peace
I believe you know undoubtedly
Of beauties and of beasts
The human spirit can withstand
And rise above the shrine
Belittle all you want, my dear
I’ll be the dwarf in time
But I’ll evolve as I hold dear
These sentiments that haunt you
I’ll cherish every single tear
Because you’ve plagued me to
I’ll turn the other rosy cheek
Though undeserved it may be
I will forgive, but won’t forget
The promised growth inspired in me
Further more, I wish to say
Remind me that I’m still alive
Disturb the sleeping monsters 
Please provoke me to survive
You compliment this hypocrite
Attention seeking scum
And help stick out the finger
That outranks the sorest thumb

Copyright © Brandon Basson | Year Posted 2006

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The lighthouse stands atop the hill,
A warning for the sailors,
That here be shallow waters,
Reefs and widow makers.

She stands there in all weather,
To shine her beacon bright.
Through wind and rain and dark of night,
She's there to shine her light.

Some say the lighthouse came to be,
Because of an old story,
About a sailor coming home,
Braving some storm's fury.

His ship went down somewhere 'round here.
The sailor lost his life,
And now whenever there's a storm,
You'll see the sailor's wife,

Standing high atop the hill,
A lantern in her hand,
And if you look along the shore,
Sometimes you'll see a man.

He comes out of the water,
To climb the wind swept hill,
Where she stands with lantern light,
Waiting for him still.

                                  Judy Ball

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2011

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  Brambles tear my cold bare feet,
I search the wood for you,
the forest says it is complete
there's nothing I can do.

  You left a letter on my chest
as silent as a dream
you said I know you did your best
but I'm not what I seem.

branches whip
 my tear streaked face
the wind laughs through the trees,
they say at last you have a place
from which you'll never leave.

A crush of berries marks your trail
so black beneath the moon
I know I seek to no avail
why chant the ancient rune.

a comet streaks across the sky
and rain begins to fall
turn back I hear the river sigh,
you never knew at all.

I turn my face up to the stars
and shriek a dirvish howl
I've nothing but a heart of scars
and you ,oh fiend most foul!

Idon't care what you have become,
I don't  care who you 'll be 
come back,come home,
let this be done,
I cannot set you free.

Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006

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Something Evil Will Come In..........

  Shake the snowflakes 
from your shawl,
throw it there across the chair,
come and sit down with us all,
we have stories we can share,

  Solstice time is coming on
we are gathered here tonight,
that no soul shall be alone,
we will hold each other tight,

 lean against the door my son,
barracade us all within,
for before this night is done,
something evil will come in.

  screams and moans 
may sear your soul,
but you must not turn aside,
God will aid you in your goal,
Keep the Windigo outside!

  Hark ,my son,I hear him howl,
on the ridge above the creek,
Windigo,oh fiend most foul,
you shall not gain what you seek!

were you all afraid?
did I spin a scary tale?
well "tis just a joke I played,
oh my,but you're looking pale.

  Horror stories are the thing
sitting late before the fire,
don't get mad,
come ,let us sing,
no, I'm really not a liar.

  What's that knocking 
that I hear?
someone open it and see.....
' tis the Windigo 
my dear .............
and it's coming 
just for me.

Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006

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the mystery about the mystery

oh the mystery about the mystery
this life this world and endless universe
invisible winds and blind suns
not to forget the rainbow painted people

how the lambs bleat and understand each other
that I do not worry whether the sun rises
oh the moon has many dresses to choose from
stars fall down to earth but nobody has found any

how we rise from the dead sleep
that we love as if it is our last act on earth
people are afraid of the dark and love the light
how life would be if it were the other way around

the mystery about the mystery 
will remain a mystery for me
unanswered questions about mother nature
unfinished tales of this fabulous world

Copyright © Kudzai Mhangwa | Year Posted 2017

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Christmas Cactus Mystery

You hide away in summer

When other blooms fill fields

In a dark room you sit and wait

'Til Christmas time is here

Is it the joy of Christ's birth

That awakens a welcome stranger

Do you peer out to see the light

That hovers above His manger

You are the only flower

That seems to recognize

The hope and peace in hearts

And angelic carols in skies

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009

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In My Dreams

I find myself still there
     where yellow fireflies dance,
and all those silver stars
     hold me in their trance.

The lavender keeps it's bloom
     no matter what the season,
and I am seated atop that hill
     with no rhyme or reason.

The same lush green meadow
     I still come to this place,
a silhouette is all I see, until
     the moonlight reveals your face.

Your lips barely grace mine
     our arms embrace, but then,
the morning sun rises up
     and I lose you again.

Every day and every night
     my dream, it stays the same,
and I will keep dreaming on
     until I know your name.

April 16th, 2015

A sequel/echo to my poem titled "In Your Dreams"

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

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The Castle

In the green countryside of Wales,
A castle sits, dark and decaying,
It holds many ghostly tales,
That the locals keep relaying.

Surrounded by majestic, rolling hillsides,
Covered by a gray, misty shroud,
And cliffs high above the blue sea tides,
Where voices still ring out loud.

What was once a beautiful garden,
Where all the children used to play,
Has been left to whither and harden,
Just as the castle was left to decay.

Long cobwebs hang like curtains of lace,
In windows that remain dark and cold,
Someone still walks the crumbling staircase,
Just as they did in the days of old.

They walk the towers and through the halls,
Making the dusty, wooden floors creak,
Their portraits still hang on the walls,
Where the voices of the dead still speak.

The empty rooms will never make a sound,
But, if you listen hard enough to their history,
Stories of romance and love still abound,
Along with secrets of murders and mystery.

August 8th, 2013

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

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Mystery Night

Great mystery soars the skies at night
from shadowed places frail in light.
Our eyes with wonder scan the vast
and dark abyss which holds real plight.

You've seen the endless heavens cast
and share the light of stars amassed.
Each sparkling diamond on the deep
is light which burned in ages past.

We ponder before seeking sleep
if starlight and the moon can keep
our souls safe on the earth below
as time unfolds night's witching sweep?

Yet, if we glean from twilight's flow
some clue the obscure night bestow,
could we then solve its ancient rhyme
and know why we fear darkness so?

Deep sleep finds us before the time
when plays the gloaming's silent mime.
Will we awake to see your prime
obsidian heavens, so sublime.

                                  Mystery Night

Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015

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The Mystery Bay Store

A quaint little store on Mystery Bay, its cast iron stove stoked with hard woods, selling fresh oysters and catch of the day— with local ice cream and sundry baked goods. Optional clothing whenever low tide, as the beach sign outside proudly claims, but summer’s a memory, such exhibits denied, so we gather inside and sit by the flames. Tourists stop by, dismissed by old salts, till asked to regale us of days now gone by. Each lifts his mug of cold foaming malts, and each one in turn quickly spins a new lie. The old boards ‘neath our feet creak and complain, as we shuffle our way past good friends to the door— counting the days until we come again, to part with our coins at the Mystery Bay store. Submit a Smile Contest Honorable Mention, Submit a Smile, Poet Destroyer A

Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2013

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Bigfoot and Me

Believers say giant footprints found,
Creatures living in the forests deep.
Walking upright like early man..
Living unseen, their secrets to keep.

Once on an evening’s quiet stroll
Through the deep woods near my home,
A shadow kept pace with my footsteps..
And I knew I was no longer alone.

On legs that would hardly support me,
In the shifting shadows I fancied I saw,
A face not so different from mine..
Albeit a more prominent jaw.

Its eyes met mine with something like wonder,
Then it was gone, just vanished into thin air.
Was it a vision, reality or only a dream..
If you believe, I’ll bet his prints are still there.

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2015

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Shadow Play

Lying there across the bed
right next to me, you sleep,
I so adore your presence
and the company you keep.

Just a shadow you may be
made of fantasies and such,
Still I do believe you're real
while imagining your touch.

Every night I see you there
draped in a gray shaded hue,
playing with my heart and mind
not alone when it's me and you.

At dawn, yes you must disappear
and leave me to face the day,
but, a thrill comes near twilight
when I know the shadows play.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015

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Magic Beans

The old shop was dilapidated;
The entry sign was faded gray.
"Magic Beans", the old gypsy stated.
I was feeling gullible that day.

"What do these magic beans do?"
No instructions were included.
"They do what you need them to do."
A few dollars less, transaction concluded.

I walked home with my magic beans,
And left them forgotten in a drawer.
Nothing changed, of so it seems.
What ever did I buy them for?

Assuming the magic must be broken,
I soaked my beans, gave them a rinse.
Cooked them, spiced, served with bacon;
And forever after haven't farted since.

Mark Halliday 20150105

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2015

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You Know Something Is There

You sit in darkness, watching the lightning,
You listen to every clap of thunder,
There could be nothing any more frightening,
But, in your mind you still wonder.

The howling wind blows the curtains,
The falling rain taps your window pane,
There is nothing there, you are certain,
But, an uneasy feeling drives you insane.

Tree branches sway within the breeze,
Their shadows fall along your wall,
You find every explanation with ease,
And convince yourself it's nothing at all.

A black shadow darts in your direction,
There's nothing more menacing than that,
Two eyes are seen with the light reflection,
Suddenly, you realize it's just your cat.

But, then a cold chill races down your spine,
It's not the wind, your window is now closed,
You try to say that everything is fine,
So, what is it, do you suppose.

Listen, something is walking up the stairs,
You can hear it's footsteps on the floor,
All this tension begins to raise your hairs,
Do you dare open your bedroom door.

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013

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Only the Seer Says

The day is beckoning and it's dawn shall awake For I to arise to knowing where my head will lie Is it my fortune to eventually feel I to forsake Will I be dispositioned to feel I to despise To acknowledge the one that will I succumb Shall it be Dark or Light, allow the clouds be If such confusions become temperamental Look into my eyes, such hunger you will see When seen I draw nor Light, nor drawn Dark Leaving my open eyes to declare whether Allowing such hunger in eventual see Only the seer influences, such can sever .

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2015

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An Awful Crime

The narrow lane led to an awful place
With its own page in the annals of history,
Where once was committed a murder most foul
It’s perpetrator to date still a mystery

Thirteen, Millers Court in Spitalfields
Was the abode of one Mary Jane Kelly
Where one November morn, eighteen eighty eight
She was found, slit from throat to her belly.

A victim was she of a man they called ‘Jack’
A murderer of most savage renown
Who spread fear through the streets of Whitechapel,
And whose identity has never been found

Because ‘Jacks’ alter ego was never confirmed
Speculation and theories are rife
Was he a personage of royal blood?
Was he a surgeon, skilled with a knife?

Was ‘Jack’ an American actor? 
Was he sane, was he mentally ill?
Were his only victims the ‘canonical’ five?
Just how many more did he kill?

Why did it all end and where did ‘Jack’ go
Is as mysterious as from whence he came,
But his legacy remains and for many a year
Life on London’s streets was never the same.

Copyright © Janette Fisher | Year Posted 2009

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Ancient Astronauts from Mars?

Is that a sphinx we see on Mars
      Resembling the one in Egypt
Just how were the pyramids built
     And pharaohs placed in lavish crypts

When Mars’ oceans began to dry
     Did species seek preservation
Did ancient astronauts arrive
     To colonize a new nation

To date, the complex construction
     Of Egypt’s tombs sparks speculation
Are Martians in man’s family tree
     Hanging limbs, green blood relations

* For the "Sphinx Head on Mars?" contest

Copyright © Diane Locksley | Year Posted 2010

Details | Quatrain |

A Key West Captain's Tale

Offshore in a Key West snorkeling trip
The old tar captain was really quite hip
Asked where the Bermuda Triangle was,
At first he laughed, then looked at me with pause

“About twenty yards yonder,” he replied
You should have seen how my eyes opened wide
“I was on a ship once,” he continued,
“Through a deep green mist our vessel did glide.”

He swore a UFO hovered above
Until the fog lifted and skies were clear
“Oh, my!” I cried, “This is what I write of --
I can’t believe the triangle is so near!”

Though captain and crew had been left unharmed
All of them remembered that eerie day
Just as I’ll not forget feeling alarmed
With the triangle not so far away

The captain had tales, legends in his head 
An incredible inspiration source
That night on land as I lay in a bed
I wished I’d learned more; I felt much remorse

*True Story.  I was writing a book on Atlantis and the Bermuda Triangle when I met the old captain.

*For Craig Cornish Contest on tge Most Fascinating Person I Knew

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2013