A POEM WRITTEN FOR ME! by KENNY MCPHEE — “SPOOKY SUSANNE”

 

I’m surprised and honored to have a poem written for me by fellow poet, Kenny McPhee.  Most of my poetry is on the spooky side. I began writing poetry as a way to showcase my book. Soon I found I love to write poems. I’ve added nature and inspiration to my repertoire, but I’m basically a creepy poet.

 

SPOOKY SUSANNE

You enjoy a walk on the dark side, susanne
if you take a train, it will be the ghost train
if you have a dream, it will make you scream
you like to shiver and feel the menace
of demons, ghouls and shady fellers
you’re into stephen king and james herbert
I bet you have a rat for a pet
and paranormal tendencies

Nobody true, they say, but once in a while
a poet can make the spine tingle
with the rightness of his or her words. 


May you enjoy the holy terror, my dear,
forever more!  

PUPPET

puppet

areyou-stillawake
Puppet Master 2 (1991)

I wake from a deep sleep.

I look across the room.

To a shelf high up.

A puppet sits there.

Its head pops up.

The head spins around.

It can’t be real.

A wooden puppet can’t be alive.

Then it speaks.

In a deep voice.

“Time to play,” it says.

I run to the door.

No!

It’s standing before me.

Taller than me.

Arms reaching for me.

A gleam in its black eyes.

It can’t be.

But it is.

It’s alive.

ALIENATED

diablito666:
“ Mars Attacks! (1996) ”
Some days I feel alienated
from the people around me.
They talk and walk like me,
but their words are strange.
Resembling thoughts of a different tongue,
the humor of a separate species.
Loving everything...

 

diablito666:

Mars Attacks! (1996)

 

Some days I feel alienated

from the people around me.

They talk and walk like me,

but their words are strange.

Resembling thoughts of a different tongue,

the humor of a separate species.

Loving everything Kardashian.

Clothes made from the same cloth,

clones made from the lowest elements.

What happened to individuality?

What happened to modesty and charm?

It’s lost to our race.

Lost in the wake of selfies.

 

SHY CEMETERY

A cemetery so shy
the dead and gone pass it by.
The graves hide in shame
from its silly name.
No mausoleums to grace it,
or fine tombstones to enhance it.
Please stay away from here.
The dead don’t want you near.

 (Source: tanrhombus)

 

 

A cemetery so shy

the dead and gone pass it by.

The graves hide in shame

from its silly name.

No mausoleums to grace it,

or fine tombstones to enhance it.

Please stay away from here.

The dead don’t want you near.

 

 

A LITTLE MURDER

The mind can be a strange place. It can think up dark stories. With monsters and demons. A little murder and mayhem. Skulls and bones for decoration. Maybe your cup of tea is blood. Your coffee carries some poison. Let your mind roam the...

 

 

The mind can be a strange place.

It can create dark stories.

With monsters and demons.

A little murder and mayhem.

Skulls and bones for decoration.

Maybe your cup of tea is blood.

Your coffee carries poison.

Let your mind roam the darkness.

And maybe beyond.

 

 

FACE OFF

 

Sunflowers face off.

They’ve come alive.

Invading my dreams.

Becoming my nightmare.

Green arms to strike.

Yellow faces too grim.

A field behind each.

Ready for the battle ahead.

THE DEAD GAME