Best Fantasychildren Poems
Driving down the highway
In the pitch black dead of night
The hairs on the back of my neck
Indications, not all is right
A long meandering bend
In the distance reveals a glow
Has captured my curiosity
My driving runs to slow
I pull in to the kerbside
Beside a country church
I make my way towards the glow
In curiosity search
Up in the distance
I hear the sound of chanting
It has the feeling of evil
Dark, eerie and haunting
I reach a harvested clearing
Beside a tree I stand
The chanting is now a visual
Children in a circle stand
Standing in the middle
A figure is set ablaze
A wicker man type shape
As the fire with him plays
Once the chantings finished
The children start to dance
In hypnotic trancing fashion
They sing as they prance
Ring a ring of pumpkins
Theirs fire in his eyes
Us children of the fields
As we dance, the burning pumpkin cries
More and more they dance
As the flames climb his frame
The louder the children chant
Tells me, this is no game
As I slowly watch
The fire erupts through it's eyes
As if with a rush of oxygen
The last of all it's cries
When the fire deadens
The children turn and go
Every one a blond
Their eyes in yellow glow
Across the field they skip
Singing the same song
It's time for me to leave
For here I don't belong
Ring a ring of pumpkins
Theirs fire in his eyes
Us children of the fields
As we dance, the burning pumpkin cries
In nervous stealth like fashion
I head back to my car
My speed turns to fast
From that glow, I'll soon be far
The next day in the paper
And the headline on the news
In the town that I just drove through
A body in melted fuse
Every Halloween
A missing dispatch is sent
Am I the one who knows
How his last moments were spent
Every night for weeks
I cannot get to sleep
All I hear inside my head
Their words on me slowly creep
Ring a ring of pumpkins
Theirs fire in his eyes
Us children of the fields
As we dance, the burning pumpkin cries
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-7.php
The bloodthirsty reign of Angelus had ended, or so the story has been told,
that after feasting upon and killing the beloved daughter of a gypsy family,
the gypsy shaman cursed Angelus with a soul.
Damned to immortally walk the earth, never to know or pursue happiness,
for if a moment of joy were to be experienced,
it would release the hold of the curse.
His evil darkness would once again return.
His soul once again would be lost.
The power of Angelus's soul and conscience
would avoid this at any cost.
Blood, his only sustenance can no longer be attained from taking human life.
Surrounded by so many a human temptation
is the eternal challenge of Angelus's immortal cursed life.
He now must feed on the blood of vermin, chickens, cattle and swine.
never to know or experience true happiness
or evil Angelus will return big time.
*
"What's happening to me? Something's horrifically wrong.
Why do I have this overwhelming sense of fear that I no longer belong?
What is this crippling feeling that seems to surround me?
Is this what is known as being afraid?
I am Angelus. Things like fear are alien to me.
Just ask any,...just ask any of the many,...just ask,
all the helpless victims I so mercilessly slain.
Sometimes they wouldn't scream. They were too petrified,
but children, children always screamed.
My God, the poor frightened children would always cry before they died.
Why do I now see and feel all the terror I instilled
on all these faces who now haunt me.
My God, all these faces of all these people I killed.
You'd think that with my many centuries past,..
...the past which boasts of all the horrible things I have done.
You'd think that with all I have butchered, killed and maimed
that I wouldn't be able to remember every single last one.
My God, what is happening? Where have I been?
Why was I this monster so consumed with the total embracing of sin?"
He hovered in the corner alone, frightened and cold.
All of his past horrors committed continued to unfold.
The vampire all vampires feared was no more.
He was now cursed with a soul
and the power of conscience is a power that evil can never endure.
The bloodthirsty reign of Angelus had ended,
but there's still more story of this vampire to be told.
Such as his quest for redemption by protecting the helpless,
as Angel, The Vampire with a Soul.
Born a legend, based on fact
The story of the blind woman's well
For she couldn't see the water's edge
And in the watery grave, she fell
When the moon shines full in the still of the night
You can still hear her mournful cries
She's begging for mercy from those in the light
From this place where her body lies
First blinded by darkness and then by revenge
She swore that she'd make them pay
She would take their children one by one
And in her watery grave they'd stay
For they knew that the woman went missing
But there were none who seemed to care
They had seen her bucket at the water's edge
But they chose to leave her there
She lured the children with promises of sweets
That this woman in the well had found
But when they would reach to claim their prize
She would hold them til they drowned
Twenty times two were the number of lives
Before the curse was finally broken
They filled in the well with tons of earth
To end those words she'd spoken
No more children would ever go missing
To their watery grave below
But in a well-shaped garden in the middle of town
Forty-one roses still grow
Born a legend, based on fact
The story of the blind woman's well
For she couldn't see the water's edge
And in the watery grave, she fell
When the moon shines full in the still of the night
You can still hear her mournful cries
She's begging for mercy from those in the light
From this place where her body lies
First blinded by darkness and then by revenge
She swore that she'd make them pay
She would take their children one by one
And in her watery grave they'd stay
For they knew that the woman went missing
But there were none who seemed to care
They had seen her bucket at the water's edge
But they chose to leave her there
She lured the children with promises of sweets
That this woman in the well had found
But when they would reach to claim their prize
She would hold them til they drowned
Twenty times two were the number of lives
Before the curse was finally broken
They filled in the well with tons of earth
To end those words she'd spoken
No more children would ever go missing
To their watery grave below
But in a well-shaped garden in the middle of town
Forty-one roses still grow
My perfect life was not a pilgrimage
To some foreign shrine or holy land
Was not the wasted advantage
Of status stairs impotent with power
If I could right some wrongs
Along the way, and linger laughing
With the lavish throngs.
My perfect life
Was to be the joy of an eagle in the cloud
Certain that the earth would meet my need
From the basket of acres only bound
By rivers running like children around
And fragrance of a thousand trees
And the canvas of my frugal fields
And the choirs of a myriad bees
And your sweet presence before whom I kneel
And the aroma loving things
Wafting like smoke or incense
From the favor of a kitchen
And you the perfect gift above all gift
To hold my hand when twilight comes
And tell the children why
These acres were made my stairs
For each to climb
And follow me
To the big hammock in the sky.