Best Haunting Poems
In the cemetery I walk, so dark it is this night.
Hoping that the Ghouls won't start to bite.
I feel the tug of the dead, as each grave I pass.
Thankful this nervous tension won't last.
Armed with my Animation supplies,
I stare out at all the green glowing eyes.
A chicken for my blood sacrifice,
Raising the dead, there's always a price.
The salt keeps the dead inside.
Using the machete our magic, we'll ride.
Salt is for everybody's protection.
Cold steal seals out any deception.
To prime the earth so the dead will rise,
cast the blood and create our ties.
Focus my energy and the ground starts to shake.
Winds whip through the area and the on-lookers quake.
I command all that is at least 3 days dead.
Just enough time for the soul to move ahead.
Born with this power as a Necromancer,
When I will my power all the dead have to answer.
I look to Sandra Hudson, who hired me,
to raise the dead and hear their screams.
I call Illyanna De La Keur from her deep, dark grave.
Her words are scary so be very, very brave.
For John Loving III's "Haunted Poets Society"
Silence is deafening
Like a dungeon dark hallway.
Door after close door of bounding
Moans and groans, and painful
Yelling gasping for air.
I sit in this cold
Dark cell shivering with my
Blacken thoughts.
Am I the only sane one?
Am I the only healthy one?
They come in and out
At all hours to poke and prob.
I, a human, a pin cushion
Ready for use.
Trying someplace else to delve
Madden hunger for More pain.
In isolation with no touch for comfort.
They in hazmat suits
Because they cannot breathe my breath
Or touch my tainted skin.
Claustrophobic in these four walls
Lord, please save me
From this darkness and pain;
Meet my exhausted lids to rest.
All I see are the haunting eyes
Of the ghost that had passed
Veiled in fear white sheets of snow.
12/15/2020
"When pain, rage and screams buried in the asylum of your heart start to poison your heart slowly and surreptitiously, you become a living ghost." - Anne Winter
Last night I had a dream,
I was a ghost in an asylum,
So many unheard screams,
Intelligence turned into something dumb and numb.
I looked at me,
Her hair frizzy and frazzled,
The ghost looked back at me,
My hair, soft like silk and dazzled.
My eyes, brimming full of life,
Her hollowness of face,
Her eyes dry like a dull knife,
Just like my hollow heart days.
“What did you do”she screamed,
Glass shattered and clattered at my feet,
Her crumpled ghastly face, tears gleamed,
My lips sealed, my heart scared to beat.
Should I tell her it's not her fault,
But my throat is closed and tight,
“It is”said the tears soaked in salt,
My eyes shrilled “Look for the light”.
She was about to throw glass shards at me,
I woke up before she could do it,
I apologise I couldn't set her free,
My room and bones, dimly lit.
Taste of my tears opened my eyes,
Self neglected, broken one always dies,
Fair or unfair,
It was just a nightmare.
I couldn't understand her, I'm not that deep,
Maybe Sylvia could understand the girl in my sleep,
All I could do was weep,
I couldn't fill the gaps so steep.
The ghost left me howling
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry”,
My heart sinking and drowning,
Her eyes, dull and starry.
He can’t forget her face and how that night
she said, “I love you” going out the door.
Her fragrance lingered when she’d left his sight.
It was Chantilly, that sweet scent she wore.
She crashed her car and died, and now each day
he thinks of how he’d once asked what he’d do
without her. He had said, “There’s just no way
that I could go on, Honey, without you.”
She’d touched his cheek and whispered, “Don’t you know
I’d never leave you? That’s a promise, Dear.
If even death should take me, I would show
you somehow, my beloved, that I were near.”
He “feels” her even now inside their room.
She visits him with scent of her perfume.
Sept. 26, 2019
It was a gorgeous house
Dated in its style
A stone-walled bungalow
Quiet sitting up on a hill
I’d never seen a sign of life
And the stories lurked about
Owned by an old photographer
Whose son had hung himself
A house that seemed abandoned
Where everyone had left their soul
In some form passed away and died
Leaving just the ghosts to roam
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
A bee drags through glass—
soundless, just the pane
tearing, like a caul.
Belief becomes the thorn.
I asked Him once. He turned His back.
The leaves fell —
As I slip into the void of this endless black,
Stardust ignites the darkest night sky,
And though I want to I cannot ever go back,
To where our love once learned to fly.
Love seeps from curling words
into a floundering bloodstream,
While amongst the stardust fly birds
escaping farther upstream.
How could I have not seen
Your acidic tongue drips venom slow,
Your kiss concealed the poison between,
It all was lost within the glow.
Now I yearn for eternal rest
Amongst the stars and stardust,
My heart has ceased to beat in my chest,
While leaving you is still the hardest.
The old man had always had an unnatural fondness
for the animal but could never seem to bond with human easily,
with the exception of a special, dear grandmother. His mind
wandered back to his childhood, the Christmas eve of 1958 about
a special chore that he was required to do of his parents…….
“Being”
To be or not to be
One two three,
Five more to go…
The eight year old counted the puppies his female Border collie
had given birth to only three days earlier. The words of his parents
echoed in his ears, “We can’t have so many dogs around the house,
we can’t feed them all. You will have to dispose of them,
she is your dog, your responsibility.” The lad wiped the tears from
his eyes, as he prepared reluctantly to smash another head against
a large stone which he had selected. “Smash!” not a whimper.
He had become proficient at this chore.
“Being”
To be or not to be
One two three four,
four more to go.
The remaining puppies snuggled together for warmth in the cold
December breeze. I can’t do this his conscience screamed as his
young mind reasoned, “You have to, mom said, and dad will be home
in the evening. You will get a licking such as you have never gotten before.” “Smash!” not a whimper. The blood trickled down his finger tips.
“Being”
To be or not to be,
One, two, three, four, five,
Three more to go, He looked at the huge stone, “The killing stone” he
thought as he prepared to finish all three of the remaining puppies
in one swift moment if possible. “Smash! Smash! Smash!” It was over
he gave a sigh of relief as he gathered the tiny, still bodies into a small
shoe box that was to be the coffin of burial. He quickly buried the box
with the puppies’ corpses inside. He knew this was one chore on Christmas
eve day that would haunt him for many days perhaps years to come.
In Honor of Carol Brown
And Contest
Haunting Memories
The Safety Zone
It feels like I have wind chimes in my feet
The tingling feeling is that intense
Pins and needles keep pestering me
But obedience is my best defense
Every single step is a painful memory
Of the childhood I never got to see
Walking on glass eggshells metaphorically
Watching my feet continually bleed
Too young to understand what was happening
So obediently I tried to be brave
Every night I had to cry myself to sleep
I hadn't even lived yet but wished for my grave
Punishment handed out like it was an offering
Like my pain was some sort of sadistic prize
Hiding away in the backyard that covered me
Holding my breath and closing my eyes
bmdavey@05/18/16
Home to President Woodrow Wilson
Ivy scaled Monmouth’s outer walls
Laughter of youth from decades past
Resonated in marble-floored halls
The theater building was set apart
Further down Cedar Avenue
Another spirit stalked the stage
Where college actors made debuts
A gift from the Monmouth Race Park
Actors’ dressing rooms were stalls
Where a stealthy ghost spied silently
As thespians answered cue calls
Arriving early one April night
Eager to recite the witty lines
Of “Blithe Spirit’s” Madam Arcati
Rehearsing her séance foremost in my mind
In character I asked, “Is anyone there?”
Was it a true spirit who answered?
A short young man swept down the aisle
Stage lights my vision hampered
“Hello,” I called as he disappeared
Into the workroom below the stage
For a moment I stood frozen
Losing my place on the script’s page
Curious, I followed his path
But the work area was empty
Where did he go? Whom did I see?
Unanswered questions tormented me
A bit of fear entered my heart
To doors above the seats I raced
No one else was in the theater
My terror was not misplaced
But as I opened the door to leave
Professor Harrison entered
Stunned, I gasped, and he had to ask
“What’s wrong?” (I was usually centered.)
“A man came in as I rehearsed,”
I panted, “wearing a shiny hat
And a jacket of dark blue satin.
He vanished, gone, just like that.”
My mentor grinned as I composed
“Believe me, what I’m saying’s true.”
Harrison smiled and said calmly
“Huh, I guess you saw him, too.”
I wasn’t first, perhaps not last
To see the lost jockey searching
For the stable that held his steed
As the great race was approaching
*October 16, 2014
True story. It turned out many students had seen this jockey's ghost. Professor Harrison worked on set construction and I could sometimes hear him talking to the "ghost." Happy Halloween!
The House is "SHAKING"
Hell's Angels are attacking it
The black Sky is "ACHING"
Stabs...Strike Lightning Quick
A Great Thunder's "Rumbling"...
In the battle of Devils cried the Stars
Ghost magically appearing
to scratch and scar the night
Voices Scream out "HELP ME"
Echos terrorize your head
Who's the Spooky creature
Is it underneath your bed
Check all of the windows
I hear footsteps down the hall
If it's a "HALLOWEEN PRANKSTER"
We'd better make a 9-1-1 call
Remove blinding covers
Be gone "Veil of Eyes"
You will see "DAILY MONSTERS"
Creepy Shadows in disguise
Don't underestimate
The wicked Warlock or "tempting WITCH"
There's EVIL at every corner
Even DEATH by "A HAUNTING KISS"
The Haunting at Darkwood Hall
As shadows deepened by the belfry wall
Only one of them saw the spectre where
Dusk crept, silent, through ancient Darkwood Hall.
And on that wall a ghostly spectral scrawl
And they lingered before the warning there
As shadows darkened by the belfry wall.
Only one read the curse and dared them all
And as footsteps sounded on a distant stair,
Dusk crept, silent, through ancient Darkwood Hall.
But one would not leave, as they would recall,
Who chose to accept the curse’s fatal dare
As shadows deepened by the belfry wall
Who repeated that wraith’s evil call
As, transfixed by that spectre’s deathly stare,
Dusk crept, silent, through ancient Darkwood Hall.
And the one who stood and dared them all
Forever held by that apparition there.
As shadows deepened by the belfry wall,
Dusk crept, silent, through ancient Darkwood Hall.
Pearl
rapids
steam cascade
haunting canvass
a red dawn smoulder
to prise sluggish eyelids
of zestful bright mood riser
who gulps in rapt awestruck spoonfuls
of mosaic zone enthralled enclave
awash with random sun drenched blue pool plops
Where giddy children cast green hue pebbles
as dulcet birds tweet from gaunt elm twigs
and rainbow trouts skim silver streams
wet grass clumps sag on mud banks
a grey fleck morning haze
that scene shift migrant
a spring usher’s
mint leaf scent
in faint,
gust
Those midnight texts living in my phone
The silly emoticon chats
Those Pic-mixed photos living in my memory card
Those comments, likes, posts living on my facebook wall
The silly arguments, talking about nothing
The poems I wrote for you
The quotes we made and lived by
The stories we made up
The promised future
The well kept secrets
All live in my pad
You were my inspiration, my muse
You became my writing
My stories and poems were you
My writing revolved around the us we were
It was all you
Now I am surrounded by all these remains
I am left to be haunted by the memories they carry
Cliche as it is, I wish I had amnesia
I wish to erase all these daunting memories that haunt me
she rocks me to sleep
with echoes of lullabies
from beyond the grave
january 4,2020