On The Night that Halloween Falls

A mist of breath,

in the black of night

with a stark echo

of maddening laughter.

An instinctive shiver,

a quickened pace,

chased by the wind

and ever growing fear.

In the far darkness

the wolves are wailing…

© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart

Darkness

Darkness, where do you end, and I begin?

My love of night, and desire to stay hidden

You’ve been with me, a very long time

Have taken up a piece, of every corner of my mind

But I do not dislike you, or think you bad at all

Life without you? I cannot recall

I’d be lost without you, to get lost in

Indeed, I do not know, where I end and you begin

THE GRAVESIDE GHOST OF RIVER SHORE

She hovers o’er the unmarked grave,

This graveside ghost of River Shore.

Her trailing gown, a whispered wave.

She hovers o’er the unmarked grave.

Her weeping soul, eternal slave,

Chained to her corpse forevermore.

She hovers o’er the unmarked grave,

This graveside ghost of River Shore.

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

 

GRAVE END

GRAVE END

 

Breathing choked yet there he lies

Unmarked weighted earthen tomb

Rooted in his muffled cries

Inside Earth’s dim crushing womb

Eyes awaken death’s surprise

Deep in dirt he tries to rise

 

Arms chained up there isn’t room

Limbs submerged in death’s disguise

Ingest last breath dirt consume

Vanquished pulsing vein drip-dries

Exhales final soul demise

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

Living Death

Living

Corpse bites

Swallows raw flesh

To nourish

 

Death

Gnaws limbs

Decomposing flesh

Feast

 

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

 

SIDE-SHOW

Come one, come all: please, step inside.

Daring Matilda juggles knives.

Just fifty-cents to watch blades glide.

Come one, come all: please, step inside.

Don’t mind the blood, Sir. It has dried.

This is the show no one survives.

Come one, come all: please, step inside.

Daring Matilda juggles knives.

 

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

 

The Blood-Moon Rises

The blood-moon rises. Dogs howl.

Drown out the cry of the night owl.

Out from his coffin, creature crawls:

This beast obeys the nightly calls.

And through his fangs, bellows a growl.

 

His cloaking cape, his monk-like cowl,

Caked in plasma, from his last foul

Feast, slurped from veins in bathroom stalls.

The blood-moon rises…

 

Out from the tomb, he’s on the prowl.

His fangs protrude over his jowl.

He stalks his pray through winding halls

The doomed female cries, shrieks, and falls.

Teeth sink inside her flesh. Eyes scowl.

The blood-moon rises…

 

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

 

Sweet Revenge

There was an old hag
Sick of trick-o-treating brats
Disguised as spooky spooks
Lean mean witches
Even meaner Captain Hooks
Fairy floss fairies
Devouring her treats
So she put on a hat, mounted a broom
And went trick-o-treating as well!

© irina dimitric 2013

Recluse

The screams of children fill the night,

So hold yours tight.

He sniffs you out.

Try not to shout.

 

Insane recluse, he thirsts for blood.

Treks through the mud,

Beyond the trees.

Crouch on your knees.

 

There is a poison in his stare:

It’s you, he’ll snare.

What was that sound?

Don’t turn around.

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

 

Riptide

 

We were business partners.

Sold friendship for fifty cents.

Choosing bracelet-colors cost extra.

The only friendship that ever mattered was free.

I’m not sure why you gave it to me.

 

Remember the day you taught me to skip

Stones in the mud-hole down the street?

Never thought much about mud, until then.

You wore that grey jacket.

Your rain-slicked hair dripped over your eyes.

I wish I still had “something that cool” by my house.

 

Sometimes we’d sneak inside our concrete tunnel.

Exchange glances.

Share secrets.

The pebbles ground into my palms.

They formed dents in my skin.

They didn’t cut me the way the bullet did.

 

You salvaged me from youth’s riptide.

Reached for my hand in the dark

Chasm between our worlds

And pulled me closer.

Some said it was too close.

I sucked at skipping stones.

 

Remember the night we danced in my living room?

You wished your parents would never come.

I didn’t believe in third dimensions,

Or I would have smuggled you

The same way we smuggled those cinnamon toothpicks.

Hid you in that guarded

Pocket, where I’ve preserved your picture.

 

Instead, our parents jolted our tunnel.

Shattered the concrete.

Ripped velcro

Until it bled.

The scars still shed tears.

But the truth is,

Fate knew that if I was there,

You never would’ve pulled the trigger.

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien