Best Closet Poems
She went into the closet one day
But what a high price she did pay
Her hubby he wanted a cuddle
But this act soon burst their bubble
The door of the closet shut fast
His ardour was a thing of the past
Their claustrophobia was getting worse
So Andrea checked in her old purse
She found an old credit card
Joe picked the lock, which was hard
After 20 minutes they were free
The relief on their face plain to see
Take heed - next time you are after a ‘screw’
Make sure the door doesn’t close on you!
Written after reading her blog and posted with permission from Andrea Dietrich
20th February 2015
It calls to me,
From the darkness,
It sings,
Ever so sweetly,
A finger beckons,
Bloody and scarred,
I can feel the terror,
Clutching at my heart,
The whispers,
The hinge squeaking,
The door softly creaking,
The covers are over my head,
My throat locked in dread,
The closet inhabited by the dead,
Calling, singing,
The crack widening,
As I begin screaming.
Lights turn off
and a small child whimpers in fear
afraid of the monster in his closet
or the eyes under his bed.
He cries silently,
attempting bravery for the first time
or he wails, cowardly
never trying something new and courageous.
His mother comes to aid him
and make sure he's alright
but i know deep inside her
she's a little afraid of the dark at night.
The unknown of a robber in the closet
the killer under the bed
each thought terrifies her
spins in terror in her head.
But other fears take priority:
the unpaid bills, the unfolded laundry
the dinner to be made
and the thought of her little boy in danger,
is the thought that makes her the most afraid.
Skeleton in my Closet
I had many sleepless nights
And walked a painful path
Sorrow, heartache and pain
I remembered from my past
I've done many things
I know wasn't right
And the skeletons in my closet
Came back to hunt my life
In my strongest hour, I
Found myself to be weak
And I shared all night passion
With strangers in the street
I thought they would love me
When I gave them my all
I didn't resist temptation, I
Answered many calls
I somehow fell in love
And met a wonderful man
If he found out about the
Skeleton in my closet
He wouldn't understand
My past is now the present
That has surface to the light
The place that kept my secrets
Is now what hunts my life
I bear the truth in my heart
Silent as a Lamb
When he finds out
The truth, will he
Know the type of
Woman that I am
The skeletons in my closet
I kept them locked away
To ashamed to speak of them
Until this very day
If I tell him the truth
His love I will lose
I feel like I am trapped
I feel like a fool
If I had the power to go
Back and change my life
I would have no pain
And no more sleepless nights
I would have no secrets
For no one to understand
Only joy and peace, somewhere
Happy with my man!
In my man cave, is a closet
Which would spawn horrible critiques
Totes full of old computer parts
Some of which my be antiques
Various plumbing parts abound
But Lord knows I'm not a plumber
Game parts, tools, nuts, bolts and nails
Old clothes from winter to summer
There is some work out equipment
For some reason it looks brand new
In the corner is my tool box
With tools scattered most askew
It's been like that for a long time
In a terrible unsorted array
If ever found clean or empty
I must have died or moved away!
The closet held secrets
his deepest fears
It hadn't been opened
in nigh on ten years
He'd painted it over
sealed it so tight
its eerie green glow
flickered ghost-white
A note found years later
under the bed
Warned of aliens captured
their arteries bled
Alas, what sick heads
some humans possess
To tell tales like this ~
grinning skulls bodiless
Gun in the closet,
One in the drawer,
One under the pillow,
Does he need any more?
Scotch on the bar,
Jealousy on the mind
Can take you too far...
Your fate can be signed...
A loud bang,
A jolt,
A puff of smoke,
Gone is Beauty
In one sad stroke...
The Devil helped
Pull the trigger,
Why?
Cause he loves
To make Good People die...
There is no way
I could live with this...
I'll hunt him down
If the law is remiss...
I won't need,
a gun or a knife
For me to take
this bastard's life
He's made us pay
The ultimate price
For you, your life,
To him, just a wife...
To me he killed
Both Love and Hope
And when I find him
Should he grope
For his gun
He will find
My hand has shoved
His nose
Into his mind...
I'll break it first
for extra pain,
My vengeance will
Never be sated
For my prayer of hope
Is now in vain.
* * ° * *
In
Mother
Moon's armoire
hang star-gilded
gowns of indigo
silk, heady with
cedar and
sandal
wood
* * ° * *
Hiding Place
After the beatings your darkness was
my protection. My source of comfort
after the sexual assaults. Hanging clothes
were a curtain against the evil.
Blankets on the floor held me close
and secure. As a child you were my favorite
friend. My hiding place.
There's a monster in my closet.
It lurks around waiting for me
to sleep.
It peeks through the crack in
the door.
It's angry and dark.
It destroys what it does not like
and in the end it destroys me.
The monster is becoming
impatient.
Soon the closet doors will open
and it will release it's anger on
everything that has ever hurt
it.
But the monster knows if this
happens, it could end up
hurting itself.
My eyes flutter, trying to send
me to sleep.
But I hold my eyes open,
contemplating what would
happen if I let the monster
free.
Would that destroy it?
Or would I turn into the
monster?
Every night, me and the
monster have tea parties as I
let it slip into my mind only for
the night.
In the morning it returns to the
closet where I make it stay.
I remind myself not to open
the doors, I don't need to
change.
What I'm wearing is fine.
This outfit hides the monster
inside of the closet...
Every failure, every bad name,
every embarrassment I throw
on the monster.
The monster despises me.
Why can't I let this monster
free?
Only when I am alone I can let
the monster breathe for no one
is there to receive it's pain
except me.
I am alone with the monster.
The monster in my closet.
I hold back the monster.
I hold back the pain.
I hold back every tear and
every punch hoping it will go
away but it only makes the
monster stronger.
Will the monster ever go?
Will it ever be free?
Will it ever destroy me?
Or is it already destroying me?
Slowly.
Slowly.
Through the mind.
It lurks in the closet.
It peeks through the cracks.
Foreshadowing the monster's
RELEASE.
Mom kissed me on the forehead and tucked under my covers.
There is a chill all over me as I look over at the dark closet.
I am afraid…
Swallowing hard, I felt my heart beginning to race.
Alarm bells are going off inside, someone is watching.
I can feel it…
There are eyes looking back at me, I can see them.
I remember the light switch is at the foot of the bed.
I am pondering…
I look briefly at the light switch and then back at the eyes watching me.
Can I turn on that light switch before something jumps out and gets me?
I must prevail…
My muscles are tensing up as I get ready for flight.
I leap at the light switch while reaching for the doorknob.
I am safe…
In the living room, I told mom I slipped turning on the light switch.
After using the bathroom, I walked over and closed that closet door.
Lights off…
Edward J Ebbs - 5/18/2015
Written for a Contest, Tales From The Dark Side
She looks like death on a crippled spider
Hips like an elephant, maybe wider
My friends came over and saw
My ugly mother-in-law
Next time they come they want me to hide her
my Shoes-
linger at the bottom of my closet
oh sexy heels
in a rainbow of colors
oooh la la . . .
high and lower flat as can be
and when I need to find
just one pair to wear
it is a puzzle a labyrinth
to solve
my world is shoe-wonderful
my Shoes-
the flat as can be
high and lower
all in a tangled mess
at the bottom on my closet
so on my knees
I search the abyss
for that pair that are
perfect and amazing
there are a few that are the best
can I be honest
they are-
my running Shoes
________________________
August 26, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/16-823-513-0
Copyright Protected, ID 16-823-513-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
"...and
the modist
carving
into the
closet
door
read:
"I do not place my life, nor my trust,
my belief nor my faith within
the
resume
of man,
nor within
his cause.
For he
proclaimed,
is but a
mere
farthing
of his
merest
self;
and not
of Me.
He is
an avid
boasting;
ungrateful,
in the end
still unwilling
to know Me
and share Me
with all life.
Yes, time
is only a
vergence
forgone
to him.
His final
day he
will bring;
and in the way,
he brings this
he cannot rest.
I am certain of this."
"Signed: "Peace"
An ever reflective heart, spirit, mind, body, and soul, nice to meet you, friend.
Some have once called the dreamer as self-serving within the jest that they carry for themselves.
I have no resume of security, nor the double mind found through shame, pain, without submitting this effort to our Creator.
I will not seek to please the mere twist of myself. for in applying myself towards this effort, means dishonor in death.
How best may we serve, because I've said my prayers and am learning, I must apply myself to nothing less?
If this effort is merely for myself, be forewarned I will lead us off of a cliff with the pigs.
As I am being moved today, I am being formed into shape.
I mean to say, I am not the wonton victim today.
I am my very own jailer alone, no, I have no pardon for myself, all by myself.
Jesus, come, protect, Jesus, save who needs to be saved, save us from ourselves.
Jesus, keep us willing, bless us to share You as we will with the truth that carries all of us even in and through the very pain of death.
Keep the breath of life within us, bless us to save face in Your Presence, let this effort be our only wealth.
When I was about eight years old we lived in an old house. It had three stories
plus an attic and like any old house it had creaks and groans. At night the house
seemed haunted. Well, it did to an eight year old with a vivid imagination. Anyways,
I was totally convinced that inside my closet lived a boogeyman. He was the vision
of terror, but I had never actually seen his face. Sometimes he hid in corners of my
room or under my bed. I had heard all about him from other kids. He was a devil,
who carried children away in the night to eat them. My parents said it was just a
shadow but I knew he existed. I would hug dolly and teddy, trembling. But he
never ate me, because I am here telling you this story, but he could have .. . .
tall man with claws
and pretty sure he had fangs-
never saw his face
Well no, Daddy, I never saw the claws or the fangs or his face. But trust me
Daddy, he is in the closet! Nooooo, don't open it! Okay well he heard you talking
and went away, but he will be back, trust me on that. Goodnight Daddy, leave the
door open and LEAVE the hall light on.
an evil laughing
creaking of my closet door-
s c r e a m i n g for daddy
_____________________________
May 25, 2016
Poetry/Haibun/The Boogeyman who Liven In My Closet
Copyright Protected, ID 16-794-931-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Story Poem Contest
sponsor, Carol Eastman
First Place
______________________
Written for the contest, Boogeyman
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron
Second Place