This week I am sharing a personal haunting as part of my October dark poetry series. This poem is based on my experience as a child living in my great-grandparent’s house in the low country of South Carolina.
Spanish moss twists in the wind
hanging like the beard of father time
from the old oaks in front of the
house on Hampton Street
outside my bedroom window
a murder of crows scatter moon light
over dark weathered wooden floors
shadows dance around the room
as a malevolent wind blows
and sheer cotton curtains take flight
father time's laughter echoes in the distance
like clockwork at the midnight hourthe house wakes!
walls and floors expand and contract
doors open and slam shut
footsteps pace on the veranda
and run down the wide hall
reality distorts and displaces
as dark forms manifest and dissolve
through the wallpaper in my room
and so begins another night
of hauntings in the house
on Hampton Street
My dark poetry series continues with a poem I first published on my Tales of Darkness blog. Meet the Witch of the Woods.
Sister, do you remember our walk down the ancient road? We broke through the woods where the river flowed. We gathered feathers and rocks and twigs of all shapes our baskets overflowing, we soon filled our capes. The others called out as we ran toward the blaze. We were sisters and maidens of the moon’s waxing phase. Those were the years we danced in our dreams. Decades gone, I can still hear your screams. The night they tore you away from the witch of the woods, but a bond made in blood forever endures.
Greetings, friends. My October dark poetry series continues as daylight wanes. Shall we meet the Night Slayer?
There is a time for healing, she whispered. This is not that time. This is the time of the fight. We take our punches and throw a few. We will rest when the battle is won. This is why we were granted eternity: to keep up the dark fight. Come, night slayer, we have work to do. Evil slithers through the land. We shall slither too. Now hand me a controller, you are player two.