Okay, so I meant to write more than three poems, but after the third my brain turned to mush! What can I say? Anyway, here they are! These were all written last night, in candlelight, while listening to eerie music. I hope you enjoy them and that they are creepy enough for you 🙂 (Note: I tried to get these poems single spaced, but WordPress is defying me for some reason. Maybe it does not appreciate poetry? If you have any formatting advice please let me know.)
Turn counterclock and bury the mushrooms
under your heel. They laced the milkmaid’s
hair with thistle thorns, just for mistaking
an elf for a sparrow. They will break your bones
for whistling twice and if you dance with them
you’ll never grow old, but die
centipede by centipede, until merriment
becomes a foul jaunt and the amanita
begins to speak of deadlier things
than colored lights and fiddles that play themselves.
So walk wisely, friend, and careful
your direction. One misstep, there will be
a cold corpse planted in the fields come sunrise.
2. I couldn’t think of a title for this one (help!)
She knows the language of the knucklebone,
the willow switch, the vocabulary
of swampweed and the mud that swallows.
She can bind you with a single black thread,
see the shrouded faces that peer out of mirrors
when your eyes are half shut.
She has pricked her finger for every absent
moon, tasted nightshade and hemlock
and found them wanting.
When she dreams the clouds tremble
and cover the stars.
Give her bread and she’ll boil you
in a stew of your own making.
Spit on her and she’ll cut your shadow
from your skin until you’re stretched
thin as space. Best to leave her to her candied
houses and stay away from crossroads
in the dead of night. Best to let
witches be witches, and think
no more of poisonous delights.
3. The Dead
I have seen the faces of the dead in their glass cases,
mouths like tunnels and eyes that could eat planets.
I have heard them begging in the twilit hours,
murmurs like moth wings in the dark,
felt their cold fingers, wet and wandering.
They hollow me out.
If I follow them down to the cellar
will they leave me sleeping with the cobwebs
and the silt? Will they shut my eyes with heavy
coins and cradle me in their muddy beds?
That’s all I have, folks! I hope you were sufficiently creeped out 😉 And be sure to check out the other All Hallows Write stories. Happy Day of the Dead!