FOLLOW THE CURIOUS

Cobblestone by cemetery

FOLLOW THE CURIOUS

The cobblestones glisten

under the moonlight.

Gravestones peek out

in the heavy fog.

Moans sweep the winds

that rustle the lifeless trees.

A gate stands open

to welcome the curious.

Footsteps draw closer

to my hiding place.

A cloaked figure enters

the home of the dead.

It disappears inside a mausoleum

with a lone angel standing guard.

Goosebumps riddle my body

as I inch forward from my spot.

I can’t stand the suspense.

I must find the meeting place

of the dead and gone.

THE DEAD GAME

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WHITE BLANKET OF SNOW

White Blanket of Snow

WHITE BLANKET OF SNOW

The snow is falling.

Flakes float to the ground.

A hush falls across the city.

Few cars dare to brave the roads.

Too soon for building snowmen.

Footsteps have yet to marr

the white surface.

A white blanket.

Sparkling clean.

The city is refreshed.

Its sins covered.

A rebirth.

FREE AT LAST

Free At Last
anthony-samaniego
lake bear big

FREE AT LAST

Slow is the course of your waves.

Colors of the deep lie by my feet.

Your soothing laps bring me peace.

I must swim out to see whom I meet.

Your cold envelopes my stiff body.

Soon I am immersed in your cocoon.

I dive down deep below the surface.

I won’t be returning all too soon.

Trying to outrun my demons,

I swim faster from the shore.

I leave behind my enemies.

I don’t need them anymore.

I’m free at last from my problems

As I stroke hard away from humanity.

No one is waiting for me back home.

I’m free to float away for eternity.

WHO SITS THERE?

Who sits there?
Source: slobbering

WHO SITS THERE?

Who sits there in the darkness?

No movement in the blackness.

As still as a fox waiting to pounce.

No hint of a ruffle or a flounce.

A soft sigh can be heard in the air.

Are those slithering snakes in her hair?

Shadows coast along with the circling dust.

The walls trickle with blood or maybe rust.

The ghostly form stands up to meet us.

She can be the hostess to greet us.

A deserted house this seems to be.

She hovers over us like a tree.

We stand alone in this bleak hall.

There won’t be dancing at this ball.

All the candles go dark.

This was a silly lark.

Time to leave this creepy place.

We must quicken our slow pace.

But since this is a horror story.

We won’t be leaving soon with glory.

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