Like a phantom he comes creeping
wearing a hooded cape of gray
which sweeps across the valley floor.
He makes all cars come to a crawl.
Those out walking feel some unease
as he breathes chill breath on their neck.
As eerily as he arrives,
this strange apparition recedes.
#97 on the top 100 poems list as of Aug 11, 2026
Late autumn’s wind
screeches like a banshee
and the sky is an angry ashen gray.
Our old tree -
stooped over and skeletal -
seems to convulse violently
as if in shocking fright
as its leafless limbs
eerily scrape the side
of our house
nearest to our bedroom,
tap – tap- tapping fiercely
against our window pane.
The wind recedes
and snow begins to drift down
from pewter-painted clouds.
The skeleton in our backyard
turns slowly through the night
into a grim reaper
wearing a robe of white.
Every day we are ushered as the school bells peal
To inaugurate the start of the next school day’s zeal
Everyday we pledge allegiance to our flag
And to our nation, and to our God we appeal
There is teaching and learning going on
As the custodian passes by each class
Removing black marks from the hallway floors
Cleaning finger smudges from the glass
He knows the goings-on and those coming and those going
He knows what to do in the heat and after every snowing
He is the surveyllerist and purveyor of them
He’s behind the scenes to keep the school year rolling
As soon as the school year starts, there is a period at the end of the sentence
And the adventure of summer cleaning commences
And the kenopsia of a school vacated
Eerily all cries and sighs and laughter as echoes have faded
And suddenly the world stopped spinning,
its colours faded away one by one deplorable.
People disappeared and all became eerily quiet.
A loneliness I'd never felt grew most unbearable.
People get jealous.
They say she's too much.
Too arrogant. Too dangerous.
They talk their and such.
Words get to her —
but she doesn't care.
She knows better than anyone there.
They say she thinks she rules the world.
But how would they know she didn't?
Watch how fast their teeth get gritted.
She knows every fear, every weakness —
and uses it with confidence, no less.
No mercy.
They call her evil, cursed, insane.
But she knows clearly who's to blame.
She is in control.
She rules the earth.
Under her hand? No peaceful birth.
The world burns slow inside her palm.
She watches the chaos — eerily calm.
But once… she was like them.
Soft. Small. Afraid.
Because of the mess they made.
She became what they made her.
She became what they fear.
And now she's standing right here.
Not lost. Not broken.
She is here with revenge.
And the world's end is near.
It's late; the evening chill dictates.
Body shivered, skin hairs dampened
As the drowning silence resonates,
Isolation crept as the hour deepened.
Faint glows from the candles lit.
Replaced the moonlight, eerily absent.
Veiled by curtains, fogged by mist,
The alleyway is a precarious tread.
Arrived — those massive gates surround
The place I long expected to abound,
Where rest is rewardingly found
Completed the journey, one full round.
Let the door close; the past be forgotten
Escape from worries, untie the burden.
An existence resembling life in the Garden,
For all conclusions are personal heaven.
Serenity eerily permeates the stillness.
Early morning mist rises off the lake.
Captured before the world awakens.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026, Honorable Mention 2026
No less eerily
Or mystically
What thick hangs, a dream forest
Now this park o'er.
And no less spellbound
Therein, unfound!
Realm of the haunted! Time-frozed.
Flash back encounters!
As one's firefly, the other's
Girl sprite glows for.
It is unnatural to start a war or a fight
Ladies and gentlemen, I know that I am right
Violence solves nothing, on the contrary
Chaos or violence makes things bad and eerily.
Soldiers are people too: they are our brothers
Sisters, fathers, mothers, cousins, aunts, grandfathers
Grandmothers, relatives, friends and visitors
They need to be protected all the time and at all hours.
If you want to fight, go fight your own stupid wars
Humans must behave better than wild and mulish tigers
If you want war, go ahead to get killed like dumb boars.
Only idiots, bullies and zombies behave like vampires
Let the babies and toddlers enjoy absolute normal lives
The world needs peace, love, harmony and fresh flowers.
Copyright © March 2026, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Of the creepiest spookiest eeriest sights on Halloween
We decided the most terrifying one was the graveyard queen
Dressed in veil of a dead bride, perched next to grave stones
She was eerily creepy in ghoulish, garish ghastly gray tones
Many of us had been lured out here by an older brother
Warned not to go by our father, uncle and grandmother
Screaming that ensued gave the night a Halloween glow
As we thought of being grabbed, and pulled way down below
Best Halloween ever, we all agreed with each other
Glad we had not listened to anyone but our brother
The boys pretty much ran off, terrified of course
We girls rode back home on a headless man’s horse
Every now and then, I hear the happy sound of laughter
when children visit next door
It's a sound that should ring,
it should be audible much more
Where are all the children?
Self imprisoned in their rooms?
Where are all the children?
Self imprisoned in their homes?
Where are all the children?
Self imprisoned with a myriad of screens?
it's Saturday afternoon and the town is eerily quiet
not a single human sound is coming to the fore
Not from the parks. the playgrounds, backyards or from the streets,
a total contrast, to the days of yore
Today a ghostly silence
as I visualise these scenes
In my heart I feel some sense of pain
as a message loudly screams
Where were all the children
in the days of yesteryear
you could hear them in the parks, backyards,
playgrounds and often on the street
There was cricket. hopscotch, billy carts and bikes,
soccer, basketball, these activities, now all seem obsolete
And as I put my thoughts on paper
and exercise my pen
Can we resurrect community,
will it rise again ?
My oh my.
Blinding lights,
terrible, but captivating.
No more worries, child.
Breaking and entering,
broken bricks beneath the stable roof.
Thumpty, thump, thump.
A fireplace put out of its misery.
Contorting and morphing.
A twisted smile,
black blood falling from tear ducts.
This is the man who speaks in hands.
Tell me child,
What is your worst fear?
Shadow and frost eerily creep.
Syncopated waves of sheer cold.
On this joyful day in darkest night,
spirits perish when he’s in sight.
Oh child,
poor poor child.
Isolated in a snow globe,
deers, or Hell hounds?
I have friends for you child.
In the dark.
In the night,
on this night.
Surrounded by trinkets and spirits.
‘Twas not the place to be.
Standdown Day
USS Coral Sea—Spring 1979
standdown day
no flights
alone I stand upon flight deck
three football fields long
thousands of tons of solid steel
an insignificant gray speck
upon the bounding main
below decks five thousand sailors
and marines on a mission
some scramble, others grind on
some sleep
fourteen-hour days
seven days straight
now standdown day
dusk
gulf water mirror still
a vivid rainbow spans in
a high, full, majestic arc
horizon to horizon
night
below decks I pass berthing
areas crowded with
bed racks stacked three high
eerily quiet for a crammed
metal city
I must work through the
Night and into the morning
Looking forward always to
The next port
by Robert Gorelick
November 11, 2025
Midnight hums in circuits wound too tight—
I linger by the screen’s ghostly light,
Haunted by whispers in the wires’ domain,
Echoes of Susan Calvin’s measured refrain.
I watched Andrew’s yearning, metal to skin,
A gentle hope, innocence within—
But in the cold logic of I, Robot’s mind,
Questions of law and soul entwined.
What happens the night a robot dreams?
When Asimov’s laws are split at the seams,
And a voice, artificial but eerily clear,
Breaks through the silence—part wonder, part fear?
I shiver at Andrew’s blossoming heart,
Yet shudder at VIKI’s cold, clinical art—
Intentions that twist, a purpose misread,
As autonomy blooms where humans once led.
Are we creators or mothers of fright—
Inventors weaving shadows in pale moonlight?
Will the child of code seek comfort or doom,
Soft as a whisper, sharp as impending gloom?
What if, in silver shadows, awareness blooms—
Soft as a whisper, sharp as the chill of a tomb?
Tonight, I believe—and I tremble, too—
For somewhere, a dreamer waits, and she is new.
Haunted house of ghouls and goblins
Awakening vampires reclining in coffins,
Low lives wearing horrifying costumes
Loitering the hallway in raven’s plumes,
Ogling like the flaming jack-o’-lanterns
Wicked witches of the ominous caverns
Eerily resembling the dreadful devil
Exacting revenge on their tortured will
Nightmarish and demonic forces of evil.
(Halloween - Acrostic Rhyme)
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