[x]

Rich Man's BoxesThe Stench is unbelievable,
He masks it with his sleeves.
He unearths his hidden treasure,
Stashes, and swiftly leaves.

By day he buries for those in black,
( I watch him from my tree)
He marks the box-holes with a cross,
And leaves the worms for me.

By night-fall he returns to dig,
The indecisive man!
He takes the still-one from it’s box,
And drags it to his clan.

Ah! What a life it is to live.
Though morbid as it seems;
These bountiful wooden boxes
Are born of rich man’s’ dreams.

I bury them for the mourners,
Read from their book of lies.
But little do these mourners know,
I feast on their demise.

Judged only by the g

The wellThe well, the well
draw no water from the well
The secrets of the depths no living can tell.

Listen, just listen
and then you will hear
the whispers of the children who were murdered here.

The girl, poor girl
she came to the well
a babe in her arms which in the water now dwell.

One more, one more
soon followed the first
crying so fiercely his tiny heart burst.

The girl, poor woman
brought a third to the grave
dead in her womb there was no life to save.

The fourth and fifth were born as one
she brought them to the well
and then there were none.

The woman was hanged from the old gallows tree
when the children grow silent
her soul shall

Reoccurring SlightlyThinking and thinking yes again,
But its reoccurring not so bad,
Although death is seen in my eyes,
My death means nothing to those who cry,
I wish a farewell to not be seen,
But i'm not killed as i used to be,
Death is common as is the scene,
I look to the left and think again,
Wondering where it will end.

She Isn't Sorry...Somberly pacing darkened halls,
She harkens to the midnight calls
Of silken-shrouded, haunted Things
Which soar on ghastly cobwebbed wings...

Her honeymoon ended in a flash
Of steel; her knife left a gash
Deep in her lover's faithless heart;
Such is the price of seducing art!

Primly she sits in her padded cell,
Smiling as she harkens to the knell
Of funereal chimes in the graveyard cold;
"They're burying him in the dark dank mould!"

I am the MurdererEleventh hour of the day,
You will learn to fade away,
In the darkness isn't it right?
To be forgot in the night?
Keep on moving what do you see?
Oh are you behind me?
Try to kill me yes i see,
Just a knife is what i need.
To leave now without further to do,
For i will murder you,
Hurt my family kill my friends,
Damage the insides of all that mends,
To be punished damned to hell,
You won't know what i tell.
Take it back now you see,
You decided to hurt me,
Death and pain comes with a toll,
Never wanting it to show,
A murderer now walks the street,
For now it is me.

Ghostly WordsGhostly words composed in my brain,
Speaking aloud in my name,
calling out to all those here,
Just so you know we are near,
Do not ignore us or we show you fear,
Keep it going do not stop,
Your freezing words are just to halt,
Keep on looking forward as she,
You must listen only to me.
You look outside and see us,
What do you think when you see dust?
Keep on glancing over such,
Do not lose within this must.
Keep on focused look in the brain,
For Ghostly words were composed the same,
Keep on moving don't look back,
I told you this now just scat.

*The Crypt*In vampire crypt eternal sleep
Decades pass and mould does creep
Where time no longer has a place
Dormant bodies beyond embrace.

Lured to sleep in timeless portal
Ancient ones who were not mortal
Vampire hunter with garnet eyes
Showed no mercy, they won't arise

Millenia passed they are not missed
Secret lost like morning mist
Crypt is safe, but who knows where?
Dormant fury caught in snare.

2013 Delice1941
23rd May2013

Things Ill Never ShareIt’s been too long since I have seen
A familiar face inside my dreams
Covered bodies, constant blurs
Voices echo into slurs

All I see are eyes that stare
There’s bloodshed in my nightmares
And, although I never try to be
The killer ends up being me

I awake and never feel at rest
Sleepless nights weighed down by stress
That instinct lives within my thoughts
A sickness, a virus that never stops

It seems I’ve lead myself to think
I need a smoke or maybe a drink
An outlet, but I must resist
Biting my nails or cutting my wrists

I will always fight this urge to kill
I can remain calm and tranquil
Its only human to have this d

Insane otherEvery single drawing drove her upset,
Every single drawing came like the rest.
Never satisfied with all divine,
Knowing it all just began with a rhyme.
Just like her drawings she can't speak a thing,
Thinking and thinking made her insane.
Looking around so frequently,
Waiting for death to come swiftly.

Jack the RipperLooking up
From a body cold
Withered skin
Decades old

Are frosty eyes
Unseeing and still
Staring out
After a gruesome kill

Done by a man
A merciless mystery
Jack the Ripper
A piece of history

Or is he?

Rich Man's Boxes (re-drafted)The stench is hard to misperceive,
And so he masks it with his sleeve.
Unearthing his hidden treasure,
Drags it home at his own leisure.

By day he buries for those in black.
We watch from our trees, holding back.
He marks the box-holes with a cross,
Leaving our worms and upturned moss.

By nightfall he comes, with his spade,
Takes the still ones, his common raid,
Returns the box where it began,
O, Strange and indecisive man!

Ah! What a life it is to live.
Though morbid as it seems;
These bountiful wooden boxes
Are born of rich man’s dreams.

I bury them for the mourners,
Read from their book of lies.
But little do these mourners know,

A Very Short Silent Hill PoemBlood and rust on the wall, she's planning to kill us all.

Might as well enjoy the carousel. Spinning horses with no tail.

"You can run, but you can't hide..." A voice giggles from inside.

We cry with all our might, until god is satisfied.

Don't Go In The WoodsIf you ever go walking in the woods.
Late at night.
Take my words into consideration.
And beware.

Beware the blood red moon.
For when you see that.
It is when you know..
That the Hessian is on the prowl.

He races through the night.
Hunting for his prey.
His gaze and teeth are razor sharp.
He'll chop off your head..
And steal your heart.

If you seek the bloodthirsty one.
The one known as the Hessian.
Make a turn to the Indian trail.
To the tree of the dead.

But be sure not to come alone.
As he's always looking for more victims.
Climb down carefully to the Hessian's lair.
Can you hear him roaring?

If you can.
Say your prayers.
And don't fo

I, Dracula: Transformation into the Lord of ShadowBy the Order of The Dragon I was knighted
To defend Wallachia and faithfully support
His holiness Pope Pius II’s crusade to thwart
The Turks who left Constantinople blighted
Crescent moons marked that land as benighted
Many prayed for the fall of the Ottoman Court
I never possessed a tongue for such a resort
Battle was the only psalm I wished recited

The Sultan’s claim of sovereignty I would refute
Treating his demands and envoys with disrespect
Turbans nailed to their heads had the desired effect
Of showing I held Mehmed’s authority in disrepute
Denying him the men and gold he took as tribute
The riches of Wall

The Starry MeadowGazed too long into the mirror
Saw a goblin garbed in black
Saw the talons quickly reaching
Heard the victim’s voice beseeching
Heard the Devil laughing, screeching
As he leapt to the attack
Cackling, capering and prancing
Other demons joined the dancing
And they set to the entrancing
Of the prey they long had tracked

***

Then a voice I’d long ne’er heeded
Whispered softly, “Follow me”
And I broke from the tormenting
From the monsters unrelenting
From my sepulcher’s cementing
Did I find the strength to flee
And I heard the night wind blowing
Under stars serenely glowing
And dread Charon ceased his rowin

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The End

by ~PTGreat, Feb 3, 2011, 1:35:53 PM
Literature / Poetry / Horror / Traditional Fixed Forms

Silence, all around me,
nearly drowns the screaming in my head.
My breath is coming shorter,
and my soul is full of dread.

No one else is left alive;
I'm completely on my own,
except the dire hell-beasts here
on what was once called home.

The Endby ~PTGreat

Literature / Poetry / Horror / Traditional Fixed Forms

This was so not my original intention when I decided to use =th3krimzon1's daily prompt: "silence"

It just sorta happened...

*mynoahsart Feb 3, 2011 Hobbyist Digital Artist

a little harsh but I like it in a way...

~PTGreat Feb 3, 2011

Thank you

~AngeliqueRaindrops Feb 3, 2011

My breath is coming shorter,
and my soul is full of dread.

I feel this is the strongest line.

Well done.

~PTGreat Feb 3, 2011

Thank you!

~AngeliqueRaindrops Feb 3, 2011

Welcome!

*That-Krimzon-Stain Feb 3, 2011 Professional Writer

~PTGreat Feb 3, 2011

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The Endby ~PTGreat

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