It started with a Ouija board:
it seemed like harmless fun,
the messages at first benign -
it said it was a nun!
Obsessed, I spent more time with it
but scary stuff began:
I heard a laugh, saw shadows move
and knew it was a man.
The figure stepped towards me then
and rooted to the spot,
I felt it push inside my brain,
my body cold, but hot.
"And that was how I killed the girls."
The judge just shook his head.
"I swear I woke and saw the blood...
the prostitutes were dead..."
I
abhor
the way that
you’ve silently
stalked me in my house
I have begged you to leave
But you steadfastly refused
I’ve just found you in my bedroom
I’m rooted to the spot in terror
And yell so loudly my son rushes in
Help!
I scream.
My son looks
At my white face.
He bravely squares up,
corners the intruder
then pounces like a cat.
“Gotcha”! He says in triumph
As he captures the small spider
“You are safe to move again now mum”
How I hate being arachnid phobic!
A severed hand drips scarlet blood
as it waves its last goodbye
It rises up, falling with a thud
I’m just terrified, I cannot deny
It starts to creep across the floor
to where I’m rooted to the spot
My Pa makes gory props, his job I abhor
but spooky horror films I love a lot
Something Spooky 8 to 16 lines Poetry Contest
Checked with rhymezone
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
10/17/21
A sliver moonlight
icon’s silhouette
rooted to the spot
sitar sensei pop
art venue dye stamped
wistful sly grin
masks grey tinged beard
svengali imp
of fretboard glee
awestruck throng’s
dry cough whinge
stage plank creak
taut nails
skydive
strings
Contest : A Diminished Hexaverse Contest
Sponsor : Caren Krutsinger
Date : 20 January 2021
OUR OAK
I shall always think of it as our oak;
Yours and mine.
Majestic in that green haven from urban cacophony,
It sheltered us in those precious moments:
Discreetly deaf to our small talk,
Obligingly blind to the fool I was making of myself.
Did I babble?
Memory has erased my every word.
Yet yours are indelible;
Every word, every inflection, every lilt
Oh, that lilt, invading my sleepless nights.
Did you feel it…the chemistry?
Have you any idea what happens to your eyes when you laugh?
Every cliché by every poet throughout the ages
Bubbles up from a sea of startling, sparkling blue
You laughed
And a thousand Sunday steeples burst into song.
You laughed
And I knew I would love you to the grave.
And then the rain stopped and I lost you forever.
I stood, rooted to the spot as you walked away.
The sun struggled through a threadbare patch in the cloud
To light up your hair for a last, fleeting second
And you were gone.
How could I let you go with so much unsaid
So many questions?
The rain stopped….and I hadn’t even asked your name.
5th July 2020
The One That Got Away contest
Sponsor - Silent One
Standing at the entrance small
I looked deep into the hall
Searching for the depth of life
I found it sitting to my right
It beckoned with a small frail hand
I braved it all I took a stand
I walked right in I had my doubts
but dare not show my internal plight
I moved closer and what a sight
it stood up to it’s full height
my first thought was to bolt and run
but I stood rooted to the spot
It glared at me or did it wink?
I did not know how to think
My lips were moving without a sound
I could feel it had pinned me to the ground
I wriggled with all my might
I made up my mind to put up a fight
slowly I felt it loosen it’s grip
I quickly stood up and gave it the slip.
I am soaring in the sky
Watching birds fly by
My parachute opens wide
As downward I gently glide
Finally I land on some soft grass
And I become rooted to the spot, alas
I will bask in the sun's glow
As my leaves spread out and grow
I am no longer a youth
And my leaves are looking like a lion's tooth!
I am usually found very close to the ground
But soon I will be upward bound
And atop my stem, with a yellow flower I am crowned
It won't be long before the wind makes me fly
And once more I will soar in the sky!
4-6-19
Dandelion Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Sewing machine, long idle, gathered dust
Absentmindedly, Jackie wrote her name
thereupon, watching as dust motes floated
upwards, caught in sunset's evening rays
Brushing away a tear, she turned around
surveying, Nan's neglected room
provoked, a vague feeling of emptiness
Psychically, Jackie, quite distinctly heard
"The war years seemed like only yesterday"
It was her Nan's voice. Jackie gasped aloud
"Nan, is that you"? "I'm sure it was your voice"
Materialising in the doorway
Was, the slight figure of her darling Nan
Dressed for bed carrying a lit candle
Aghast, Jackie stood rooted to the spot
The candle sputtered, spent and all was dark
C’est la vie, Billy!
His cheeks a deep scarlet,
His jaw tightened in an eerie grin,
He stands, rooted to the spot
While the snot in his nose
Like a long gooey
Streak of
Chewing-gum
Slowly comes dripping
Onto his dappled T-shirt,
and his eyes, like dazzling agates,
Fixedly follow the interminable course of
The red rubbery ball
As the projectile
In a deafening clash,
Smashes the headmaster’s office window.
Survival of the fittest –
Practically, trying my best…
Owning an applaud for future successes in excess – a failure I don’t detest
Terribly trying to pass this difficult test…apparently, I don’t give a ****! You’re a pet peeve, but grieve not – you’re a little pest in one spot and I’ll leave you with all the rest…rooted to the spot suddenly…embarrassed abruptly…
I’m getting so bold, yet growing so old…
Because of lack of sleep…
A deep sleep taken away by the sounds of your weeping moans that creep
Inside my bed at night
I’m feeling the fire burn in my heart
The drums of the mountains grow asunder
Fountains of hills douse me with delight and it was all from the start
I’m a lamb that’s sent to the filthy slaughter
Cursing with vulgarity
The urges of cursing come back to stab me in the back
Being a friend to enemies wasn’t always an easy task to begin with
The cemetery of clover fields…
Unwind in my mind’s eye
I’m like legos on the ground…
Never touched, without a sound
I can never quite point a finger at what you said…
You blamed me for feeling your unsaid dread…
Rooted to the spot of reds, greens and blues…
Neglected by a billion views of unsatisfied viewers
I am the audience and the performer…
What was I to do?
Receive your old news?
With crusted eyes from little sleep
I stepped out on the sand,
the morning mist a coverlet
o'er all, both lake and land.
And then as if a waking dream
or flight of fancy to my sight
I thought I saw a spritely nymph
come dancing in the dark and light.
Entranced was I to see such sport
displayed in front of me,
she swooped on wings of gossamer,
cavorting merrily.
In and out of my purview
she flew with graceful ease,
accompanied by flute and lyre
to decorate the breeze.
Then rooted to the spot I watched
the vapors disappear,
with them the image of the nymph
whom I had held so dear.
Was she a daydream, fancy's flight,
a soulless apparition,
or is she real, and can she feel
the moment, and her mission?
I don’t wanna shed you bad news
So, here’s some good news –
I refuse to embrace
The face of shame…
I muse about my upcoming race
Receiving unexpected fame
Embrace not the blues of yesterday
Embrace not me…embrace me not… x2
I don’t wanna be rooted to the spot and rot
Embrace me not, sorrow of yesterday’s tomorrow…
Embrace not me…embrace me not…x2
Or you’ll be doused in dismay or worse – you’ll have eternal sorrow
I want the reds, the yellows and the oranges to stay
Stay with me, greens, violets and blues and maybe gray
Embrace not the blues of yesterday
Come stay, sundrenched day
I sway with the blessed breeze
My mind, soul and heart is at ease
Embrace not me…embrace me not… x2
I don’t wanna be rooted to the spot and rot
Embrace me not, sorrow of yesterday’s tomorrow…
Embrace not me…embrace me not…x2
When I spin around,
You are there
I was lost, but now I am found
We have our share
Of love this blessed night
I close my eyes to rest
I don’t wanna lose this race
My heart pounds vigorously – how can I pass this test?
Blank canvas in your sight
You get to choose
The way you drape and decorate
Don't be too conservative
Change might scare you
But you might
Relish the outcome
There will be days when it don't pan out
That doesn't mean you failed
If you judge yourself too harsh
You may forget there is a lesson to be learned
How will you remember?
If not by your mistakes?
We all have to start somewhere -
Unless you prefer to be inert
Unless you remain
Rooted to the spot
Refusing to grow
To falter isn't your lesson
How you react to it; is
How you embrace
The opportunity to grow
©091020141420
The moon reflected on the sea,
A night more beautiful than day.
I wheezed and struggled up the steps
And looked out over Whitby Bay.
I saw the harbour far below,
And heard the splashing of the waves,
I turned around to see the church,
The ruined abbey and the graves.
I thought of Dracula, the Count,
Imagined him and Lucy there,
And then I saw a hulking shape -
But, oh, the menace in that glare.
He showed his fangs and hissed at me;
My feet were rooted to the spot.
I cried for help and waved my arms
At people on a distant yacht.
He lunged and bit into my neck;
I tried to fight but felt so weak.
And that is how I came to die -
And you’re the prey I need to seek…
for Darren's Bram Stoker contest
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.