#CoffinHop – The Snow Queen

Snow Queen

 

The Snow Queen

 

Do you have a heart, oh Glacial Queen?  Or does the frosty wind blow your love cold?  What do you see, when you gaze in the mirror?  Winter or Spring?  Or are you blinded by the snow?

 

Shattered glass festers

slivers buried in the heart

until it decays

 

Is it enough, to sit upon your throne of ice?  Surrounded by your flurry?  Do you yearn for a warm touch, a tender kiss, or has emotion gone, passed from your grasp, perpetually lost to you?  Did you trade your life for a Kingdom of Winter?

 

The bloom of roses

seeks love, recaptures essence

underneath the snow



© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart



Remember to enter our fabulous #CoffinHop giveaway HERE



Check out the rest of the Coffin Hoppers at:
CoffinHop

IMG_4273.JPG

The Penultimate Annual Horror Event
24th Oct – 31st Oct
60 Horror Authors/Artists/Poets
8 days of Fearsome Fun
8 days of Generous giveaways/sweepstakes/contests
Terrifying tales, Petrifying Poetry, Spine-tingling stories, Freakish Flash Fiction, Heart-Racing Horror…

Join the Hop and support your favourite Horror Authors/Artists/Poets

Advertisements

#CoffinHop – Sandstorm

Desert

 

Sandstorm

 

Wasteland calling, for the reckless, rash fool

From sand rises death, with thin bones bare, bleached white

Tempest screaming, one name spoken- the ghoul

To chill the soul, madness, shiver in fright

Storm rider, reaper; escape won’t come, but run

Come the next day, the body left for the sun

So fear the sand, its fall, don’t join those few,

those lost secrets, buried, or you will rue

the hour terror followed, when dread arose

Never one left, no soul, to tell of true

Turn the season, and the desert wind blows

 

Blind eye twisted, and a city stands, to rule

on the warm sand, spires so tall, so bright

Pride and hubris built the desert jewel

within the path, the grasp, of the hawk’s flight

And nothing’s safe, no life; it has begun

Hear the windstorm shrieking, conceit undone

Darkness descends, wailing a shadow hue,

no rain to wash the blood, just morning dew

Empty, haunted, their home- the fate they chose

They fed the beast crimson and evil grew

Turn the season, and the desert wind blows

 

Ruins mark the time, in stone, a past too cruel

The sand erased the pain, but sees the blight

of crushed relics, splendour lost, in the duel

of opposed wills, the war of the long night

It stands alone, exile, the path most shun

A city torn, shattered, the dark tale spun

The sand is calm, again, a tranquil view

Yet underneath, they lurk, they will pursue

Never absent, they wait, they only doze

The desert bids, enter, and start anew

Turn the season, and the desert wind blows

 

Refugees flee conflict, a people who’ll

face the desert, scurry to a worse plight

unknown to them; prey in the zephyr cool

as it rouses, as they watch all in sight

and feast that day on flesh, while sparing none

The sand ran red, harsh rivers to outrun

Blame given not to ghouls, but men who slew

Such is warfare, some said, under sky, blue

It is sad luck, to be bones for the crows

And went away, naive, without a clue

Turn the season, and the desert wind blows

 

So remember, now with hunger they drool

Don’t tempt your life, not once, they’ll take a bite

They hide, they hunt, for you, meat to fuel

their appetite- that need, they take delight

in the killing, the death; it is their fun

In their desert, their sand, you will be done

No hope, escape, just skin and entrail spew

Others ventured, and died; they thought they knew

Stay far from sand, or else the edge will close

Discount, disdain, you’ll see, you’ll get your due

Turn the season, and the desert wind blows

 

In wind, in sand, we bide, wait the years through

Come closer now, that’s it- more limbs to chew

Tear off the flesh from bones, nibble on toes

Straggler, nomad, the same, you are all stew

Turn the season, and the desert wind blows





© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart



Remember to enter our fabulous #CoffinHop giveaway HERE



Check out the rest of the Coffin Hoppers at:
CoffinHop

IMG_4273.JPG

The Penultimate Annual Horror Event
24th Oct – 31st Oct
60 Horror Authors/Artists/Poets
8 days of Fearsome Fun
8 days of Generous giveaways/sweepstakes/contests
Terrifying tales, Petrifying Poetry, Spine-tingling stories, Freakish Flash Fiction, Heart-Racing Horror…

Join the Hop and support your favourite Horror Authors/Artists/Poets

#CoffinHop – Stairway to the Sky





Stairway to the Sky

 

Starlit moon,

perched far above

a stairway in the night

Ghostly light outshines

a mantle of ancient shadows

that cascades across the stone

A faint voice calls from the temple

adrift, swallowed in the crashing waves,

and echoing footsteps sounding from each step



© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart



Remember to enter our fabulous #CoffinHop giveaway HERE



Check out the rest of the Coffin Hoppers at:
CoffinHop

IMG_4273.JPG

The Penultimate Annual Horror Event
24th Oct – 31st Oct
60 Horror Authors/Artists/Poets
8 days of Fearsome Fun
8 days of Generous giveaways/sweepstakes/contests
Terrifying tales, Petrifying Poetry, Spine-tingling stories, Freakish Flash Fiction, Heart-Racing Horror…

Join the Hop and support your favourite Horror Authors/Artists/Poets

THE INNKEEPER’S WARNING – #CoffinHop

Please, I beg you, don’t go out there!
He’s waiting for you in those woods–
A shadowed man upon his horse.
Now, I’ve heard tell, his skull was smashed,
Then up he rose to get revenge.
Oh, I see you don’t believe me.
“Madam,” you say, “you’re telling tales.”

But listen hard; you’ll hear his wails
Ushered by forewarning winds–those
Ghastly sobs from that same bugle,
Legend says, he was murdered with.
Entering those woods insures you’ll
Rest in peace–his fate’ll be yours.

~ Caroline Adele O’Brien
* The Phantom Bugler is said to be in the forests surrounding Forest Grove, Oregon.

GRAY LADY – #CoffinHop

Haunted sea-foam waves bash cliffs
Eddies tug at stranded ships, so
Climb the whimpering crooked trail
Every night the same path tread
Trembling fingers light the lamp
Aiming beam toward liquid grave

Her beacon escorts sailors home
Efforts lost upon the ghosts
Amidst the fog those sunken ships
Death-locked trapped in jagged cliffs
~ Caroline Adele O’Brien

*Heceta Head lighthouse (The Grey Lady) is located on the Oregon Coast just north of Florence.

#CoffinHop – Ashen

Ashen

 

Ashen

 

Path of stones, pale bones

to carry them down

Hear the wild wind howl

 

The crow caws, give pause

Shadows shift around

Hear the wild wind howl

 

Wolf in white, need bite

savagery unbound

Hear the wild wind howl

 

A scream lost, in frost

countless echoes sound

Hear the wild wind howl

 

None to save, buried grave

The dead, in the ground

Hear the wild wind howl



© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart



Remember to enter our fabulous #CoffinHop giveaway HERE



Check out the rest of the Coffin Hoppers at:
CoffinHop

IMG_4273.JPG

The Penultimate Annual Horror Event
24th Oct – 31st Oct
60 Horror Authors/Artists/Poets
8 days of Fearsome Fun
8 days of Generous giveaways/sweepstakes/contests
Terrifying tales, Petrifying Poetry, Spine-tingling stories, Freakish Flash Fiction, Heart-Racing Horror…

Join the Hop and support your favourite Horror Authors/Artists/Poets

#CoffinHop – Wild Hunt Duo

Copper Moon

 

Night of the Hunter’s Moon

 

They come by the moonlight

off the mountain, from the mist,

riding in the darkened night.

They come by the moonlight,

for their eve of haunting flight.

Hear the horn, by Death be kissed

They come by the moonlight

off the mountain from the mist

 

Sunset Ride

 

When the sunset sweeps that painted sky

and muted twilight steals across the earth,

He smiles…

When the crickets chirp, and the owls hoot,

when trembling mortals speak their prayers,

He rides…

 

Inside the storm, through the howling wind,

and the souls of a thousand dead, following.

Upon the wild, dark horse with scarlet eyes

he reigns the night, and brings the Wild Hunt.

Fear the horn, shrink from the echo of hoof beats

Flee his forever path, scorched and burning.





© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart



Remember to enter our fabulous #CoffinHop giveaway HERE



Check out the rest of the Coffin Hoppers at:
CoffinHop

IMG_4273.JPG

The Penultimate Annual Horror Event
24th Oct – 31st Oct
60 Horror Authors/Artists/Poets
8 days of Fearsome Fun
8 days of Generous giveaways/sweepstakes/contests
Terrifying tales, Petrifying Poetry, Spine-tingling stories, Freakish Flash Fiction, Heart-Racing Horror…

Join the Hop and support your favourite Horror Authors/Artists/Poets

#CoffinHop – Night of the Sidhe

Moon Clouds

 

Night of the Sidhe

 

The sun falls low, behind the hills

as the gloaming casts the land

in shadow and in fading light

and the wind blows over the water.

 

In the half-light they come…

 

They come to dance,

They come to play,

with we trusting mortal souls.

 

So lock tight the oaken door,

slide the iron bolt against the night.

Stoke the hearth fire high

and croon your children a lullaby.

 

In the half-light they come…

 

They come on moonbeams,

They come on the breeze,

Those wisps, those Fae, the Sidhe.

 

In the half-light they come…

 

So shiver, humans, as they pass,

secure your shutters fast.

Lest they take you with them.

 

In the half-light they have come…


They have come to laugh,

They have come to sing,

their beautiful voices, calling

 

For mortals everywhere…

 

To join their night,

to glory in their light,

to frolic with the fireflies,

and whisper to the trees.

While the wolf howls on the hill

and the wind tickles at the ear.

In the rivers the salmon speak,

and the stones scream from the earth.

Dance with the Sidhe, they cry,

dance my lovelies, and be free.

 

For in the half-light they come…

to reap from mortals everywhere

 

They sing of bliss,

and feasts and joy,

they dance in beauty,

in light serene.

They tell of paradise,

let you walk with gods;

in the night you live

an age of wonders.

 

In the half-light…

With your mortal soul…

 

They are splendour to behold

Captivating, mesmerizing,

tossing your dreams in the air,

offering harmony and joy.

 

A heaven in the half-light…

 

But as with all things,

a price must be paid.

To look upon immortal light

and dance with gods,

even for one eve,

such play will leave its mark.

A longing on the heart.

 

Of mortals everywhere…

 

With the dawn, a fortunate few

will depart with them

and leave behind this world of men.

The rest will remain upon the earth,

left here, lost in their wake

cursed to wander to their tune.

Friends will fall away,

love will wither.

As their song consumes.

 

In the half-light they come for you…

As they came for him…

 

Night after night,

they beckoned to his will.

Night after night,

he answered them.

He danced, he laughed,

in glades, on moonlight,

but never again with me,

only ever with them.

A pawn turning in their game.

 

In the half-light they took my love…

 

They toyed with him, used him,

until his bones lay white,

broken on the ground

under their feet.

 

Glinting in the half-light…

 

So heed me well,

when I tell you true

to lock tight your oaken door

and slide fast that iron bolt

against the night.

Ignore not my words

to stoke the hearth fire high

and croon your children a lullaby

to drown their song.

 

In the half-light they come…

 

They come on pale moonbeams,

They come on the howling wind,

those wisps, those Sidhe,

those dark of heart.

Hear my warning, I cry

 

To mortals everywhere,

In the half-light they will come…


 © All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart



Remember to enter our fabulous #CoffinHop giveaway HERE



Check out the rest of the Coffin Hoppers at:
CoffinHop

IMG_4273.JPG

The Penultimate Annual Horror Event
24th Oct – 31st Oct
60 Horror Authors/Artists/Poets
8 days of Fearsome Fun
8 days of Generous giveaways/sweepstakes/contests
Terrifying tales, Petrifying Poetry, Spine-tingling stories, Freakish Flash Fiction, Heart-Racing Horror…

Join the Hop and support your favourite Horror Authors/Artists/Poets