The tree in my backyard has been watching me since I was three.
As time passed, its gaze has never set me free.
In the light, it gives a shadow;
in the dark, it hides the light.
This tree makes my life just not right.
Like the other night, it knocked on my window, gave me a fright.
This damn tree is trying to take my life;
I know it looks at me like a killer with a knife.
So with an axe, I hacked it to the ground,
And joyfully, wildly, I danced around.
I still recall those days of smog,
When the hand in front of your face
Quite literally disappeared.
A billion chimneys, belching smoke,
Filling our lungs with noxious fumes.
A girl and boy passed in the street,
Each quite perfect for the other.
But only footsteps in the fog
Sponsor Netta Onclaud
Eight x Eight poetry contest
31st July 2026
Joy to early wakes of feeding cries
Love to fur balls on my clothes
To touch the softest fur of ginger clumps
Reminders of your chatty notes
My little ginger cat
My murderous ball of fluff
You make it easy to forget all the other stuff
My day-to-day life is pretty routine.
With the rest of the world, I blend in.
There’s a side of me that no one has seen.
It’s quite a story… where do I begin?
I know that it may be hard to believe,
But it began when I was very young.
From the start, it was easy to deceive.
I was a little hyper and high-strung.
I may have gotten away with a lot
Because I was the youngest of them all.
But to the bullies, I gave what I got.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
I know that it’s not much of an excuse,
But my siblings would always pick on me.
So, I learned psychological abuse
And tormented all of my family.
I would steal many of my siblings’ toys,
Knowing I probably wouldn’t get blamed.
The stuffed ones, I would completely destroy,
And I never felt the least bit ashamed.
As I got older, it did become hard
To hide what I’d ultimately become.
I buried everything in the back yard.
If they were ever found, I’d just play dumb.
But, no one ever discovered the truth.
I got away with it all of these years.
From just a little puppy in my youth
To a full-grown dog that nobody fears.
I placed all my bets on it working out
paced round my room throwing clothes all around
read into every message, made up my own signs
before we’d even met, in my head, he was mine
Constructed an image, put together piece by piece
when it didn’t match up, I left my hope on the street
He was so well mannered, so docile and kind
I just couldn’t see him with his hands in mine
I make this mistake most every time
planning futures and placing moments before the start of our time
How do I let go of my intense dreaming
because it’s to blame for that sinking feeling
I can’t find an off switch
it starts as soon as I see someone even glimpse
in the direction of me
I hope when he’s here I act differently
living just in the moment not living for what could be
The grandfather clock
struck nine as the silver
platters were finally
uncovered.
Instead of the roasted duck,
a severed hand rested on the
bed of rosemary.
Before anyone could
scream, the mansion's
heavy oak doors automatically
locked.
The lights flickered out,
plunging the grand dining
room into pitch blackness.
A wet, heavy thud echoed
as the host collapsed onto
the mahogany table.
When the candles were relit,
a towering figure stood
holding a carving knife.
A porcelain mask reflected
the frantic, tearful faces of
the remaining guests.
One by one, the crimson
wine on the tablecloth was
replaced by a darker red.
Breath was held beneath the
long drapes as heavy boots
approached slowly.
The figure stepped over the
furniture, whispering that
dessert was about to be served.
There once was a man from Manila
Who was also a serial killer
When he had you for tea
You’d be the entree
His parties were just like a thriller.
The fever climbs,
my breath grows thin,
I feel the dark
come creeping in.
I hear the scrape
of hooves and flame.
He whispers low
and calls my name.
I beg him, "Wait...
don't take me yet."
There's truth I've kept
the world won't get.
For every face
I lured with lies,
dimming every spark
behind their eyes.
I chased that thrill,
that perfect pull,
the way their fear
could make me full.
They followed me
so soft, so blind,
as obsession fed
my hollow mind.
I kept my tracks
so neat, so clean.
No trace of me
was ever seen.
No prints, no proof,
no witness near,
A killer who slipped away
year after year.
The hunt was sweet,
the silence, too,
the world stayed dark,
the leads stayed few.
But now I choke
on every choice.
The devil laughs
to hear my voice.
He says my soul
is marked and claimed,
that hell already
knows my name.
I feel the truth
begin to swell:
I carved my path
straight into hell.
So take me now,
I've played my part.
Obsession was
my dying heart.
A motive was sought
a killer who laughed
Left pictures of clowns
near victims, fore and aft
Scratching heads, pulling hair
nor reason nor rhyme was there
Investing time and money
when the belfry’s bare
Wild-eyed, wild-haired comic, Phyllis Diller
Here’s why her female fans would cheer her:
“I heard housework just might kill a gal,” she’d pout
And then: “I don’t want to be the first to find out!”
Somethings are better off unsaid
I buried you inside my head
You fill me with dread
To me you're dead
You tormented me everyday
Giving & taking your love away
The pain went on & on
Then you were gone
Leaving me all alone
You didn’t phone
I waited for an eternity
All you did was hurt me
My love turned into pain
I killed you again & again
Blood red
Your dead
Odorless and tasteless, neither seen nor heard, it can't be touched, but oh, it can be felt. It lacks temperature, but metaphorically, it might be cold, though dependable as a... heartbeat? Like physical laws, it's a part of the fabric of the universe, everywhere, eternally, but I wouldn't call it, ha-ha...timeless. Some consider it cruel.
We wish it would speed,
in youth, but in our old age,
if only 'twould slow.
Where is Cereal Killers at?
An evil man decided to become a killer clown after he watched 'It'.
He showed no mercy, murder was a crime that he loved to commit.
And just like in Stephen King's miniseries, he loved to kill kids.
People are still terrified because of what that killer clown did.
Parents started locking their doors and they made their children stay inside.
Human life meant nothing to that clown and he committed many homicides.
He murdered over and over, he committed murder 32 times.
He was eventually caught and executed for his horrible crimes.
That evil clown went to a birthday party and was going to kill every kid there.
But the police were waiting for him and he was arrested and sent to the chair.
As he was being electrocuted, his head burst into flames.
It was a horrific death and he only had himself to blame.
He died in agony because of his horrible sins.
He vowed to reincarnate and start killing again.
Because that evil clown was executed, people are feeling a lot of relief.
The world is a better place because he's no longer causing terror and grief.
Killer has the dagger soaked in grief,
A manipulator justifying crime.
Shh....bleeding eyes,
Shivering hands, told me to kneel down
Putting sarcastic smile and dagger to my neck
Hope to see paradise?
That's where I surrendered to his breathtaking voice
I fell in love with the killer
Never ever have I lost my mind
Had he not been so kind.
He drives me crazy
Through clouds taking birds wings
Air started smelling Luke him
And again I fell in love with the killer.
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