Poetry ~ Omens

black birds flying from left to right
salt over your shoulder as the clock strikes midnight

blue bottle trees keep the haints at bay
boo hags on the bedpost suck your breath away 

black cats lurking to cross your path
jump the cracks or face the reaper's wrath

stare in the mirror but don't dare blink
gurgling sounds rise from the sink

a pin in the poppet inflicts the pain
an evil eyed curse to jinx your name

ominous clouds shroud the hunter's moon
witches of the night mount their brooms

bonfires blaze on all hallows eve
omens portend the future if you believe

Poetry ~ The Haunting of Hampton House

~

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.

My great-grandparents home on Hampton Street, Walterboro, S.C. ~ 1910
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 hour

the 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 

Poetry ~ Witch of the Woods

~

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.