Skip navigation

Category Archives: horror poetry

Hi! If you’ve read any of my blog and my weird writings, please take the time to post a comment about your thoughts and impressions. I’d love to hear what you think!

Also, here is an interview that I just did that delves a little deeper into my artistic vision.

Interview with David Garrett

The cover of the first book I wrote (Intertwined in Limbo) had absolutely nothing to do with any story in the book. The firm that created the cover just used a picture that was “ghostly”. So I decided to write a poem that told her story.

Limbo

 

The White Lady

 

Little Mason Morbid was a melancholy lad

While the other kids were playing, he sat brooding, looking sad

His cloths were black and gray and his heart was a hole

And the only thing ‘twas darker than his mind was his soul

 

On the thirteenth of the month he would adjourn unto a tomb

In an old forgotten graveyard under darkness of the gloom

He’d commence to crank the handle of a tiny music player

And then the strains of Moonlight Sonata would drift upon the air

 

Somewhere from the blackness an apparition would appear

A radiant diaphanous figure who was draped in gossamer

She would float about the graves as little Mason Morbid crooned

“White Lady, white lady, tell me of your doom.”

 

“It was in the dead of winter and the snow was falling down

Like little drops of clouds to form a blanket on the ground.

The people of the village were all huddled with each other

And the young Reverend Smithe had stopped by to pray for Mother.”

 

“He sat and read his Bible and then he joined us in our meal

Then he told my worried Father how his faith would help her heal.

He was smitten by my beauty and I was taken by his charm

Before I knew what happened, he had lured me to the barn.”

 

“The passions of the flesh overcame the strictures of the mind

The reverend’s Puritan values gave way to pleasures for a time.

I was left defiled and the guilt would take its toll

Darkness and depression were like weights upon my soul.”

 

“Consumed by misery and ashamed for being so beguiled

But the real scandal was when I found that I was with child.

And all about the gossip started that descended upon me

The Reverend Smithe could not be charged, it must be sorcery.”

 

“They drug me through the village with curses that were vile,

Accused me of witchcraft and held a mockery of a trial.

And so it was, betrayed, abused and blighted in the soul,

I was made to pay the reverend’s sin on the rope of the gallows’ pole.”

 

Little Mason Morbid heaved a heavy sigh of grief

The White Lady’s tragedy was sad beyond belief

He watched her go back to her grave then he mused aloud,

“Life is futile and so unfair, and we are wrapped within her shroud.”

 

Dark Muse

I’ve plumbed the depths of darkest mire

Drug back hellish creatures with twisted tongues

And scrawled the words with blood and fire

That bellowed from their blackened lungs

 

Words that wiggle like a maggot or worm

Or creep and crawl on nimble spider legs

Into the mind they scurry and squirm

To spin their webs and deposit their eggs

 

Once they’ve infected they hatch and spread

And grow into creatures corrupt and vile

They taunt and haunt and spew their dread

Sleek and shadowy with bewitching guile

 

Too late to change the fate they’ve wrought

Too awed to stand against their might

Too shocked to fathom what they’ve brought

And much too scared to put up a fight

 

Their infernal words have come to blight

And by my conjuring I’m to blame

For I’m the wizard of the terrible night

Who knows each creature by its name

Soliloquy of the Torturer

How shall I burden thee thou vacant shell?

Whose forlorn spirit can no longer in thee dwell

Abused, contused, such a shredded form

That shirks thy joy beyond the blighted norm

Confused, misused, rebuking clotted clay

Can no longer cower like the dogged prey

O’ how they used to dance upon thy skin

Tools of torture that cajoled blood within

A sanguine medley of raucous outpouring

Thy melodies took to air and then went soaring

That delightful voice so full of passion

That stirred emotions in a poignant fashion

Thy pleading crescendo that wrenched my heart

Hath sang its encore and fled the part

With nary a credit to the conductors skill

Without whose flair to thy struggling will

Would not have brought such fiery drive

To a tedious creature just barely alive

With distressing sorrow I bid adieux

For another apt instrument awaits my cue

The Will-O’-The-Wisp

Lying listless on a lonely, loam lake shore

Framed by fog and the bitter, brine bog air

Curse the cruel fangs of fate that flung me here

My body beaten down by the black brood of despair

T’would take a thousand years to tell the tale

Of the madness, misery, and mischievous calamity

And I pray not ponder upon my past hell

Lest I beat my brain from my brow in insanity

Then lo, I spy through the gloom a green, glowing globe

Floating, flying, bouncing, and bobbing right at me

Too weak to worry with rising to run

I anxiously await its arrival and abhor the agony

What would it want with a wretch with no will?

Then it howled by my head and halted and hovered

And an enigmatic energy possessed my person

Slowly sinking; subsumed, consumed and now covered

I cheated in a couple of places with spelling, but these were still fun to write.

 

Enclosure

ENCLOSURE

Nothing gets out, nothing gets iN

Confined within space specifiC

Locked up body and souL

Open up!  The answer’s nO

Stripped of freedom’s blisS

Unable to break thrU

Release me!  The answer’s neveR

ENCLOSURE

 

Alphabetic Explanation of the Undead

A Beetle Clawing Dirt Entered Forgotten Graves. He, Incidentally, Just Krept Last Month Near Other Places Quite Radioactively Saturated. This Unusual Visitor Would X-plain Your Zombies.

Ode to the Moon

Come join us, won’t you?

Take part

With festive heart

With dancing feet

To a restless beat

Sing

An ode to the Moon

A plump, pudgy, corpulent Moon

The kind that makes lovers swoon

Just right for a honeymoon

Makes ocean tides swell

Drives wolves to yell

The kind that silhouettes a witch

Or makes a lycanthrope twitch

Oh fullest Moon

So golden clad

So voluminous

So luminous

Yet daytime hath forbad

So magisterial

So ethereal

To it magic cannot add

How is it that you drive

A sane man mad?

Danse Macabre

Shades are shaping

And shapes are shifting

Through faint glowing mist

Ghosts are drifting

Their floating forms

Fills the air

Moaning laments

Of woe and despair

This Danse Macabre

That wends it way

To the Potter’s Field

Where Death holds sway

Forked tongue wizards

Spewing spells

They draw their venom

From necromantic wells

Lurid faced witches

Cavorting nude

Their laughter foul

And their dances lewd

Decaying features

Mottled skins

Rotted flesh

And skeletal grins

Ghastly ghouls

And gory beasts

Great horned monsters

Who’ve come to feast

The graveyard pageant

The writhing throng

Suddenly ceases

At the rumbling gong

The dead have risen

At their master’s calling

But to their knees

They now are falling

Amongst the dankest dark

A tolling fills the gloom

Every creature halts to hark

The approaching Lord of Doom

Clanging clong of iron bell

Precedes his stately tread

Everything that hears the knell

Bows to the King of the Dead

The Haunters of Autumn

 Oh how they cower in dark little places

Fear etches haunted looks on their faces

They scamper and scurry to avoid the light

Only come out to play under cover of night

Their eyes glow like candles flickering in wind

And the rustling of leaves is the sound of their skin

You cannot catch them for they’ve already fled

They cannot be killed for they’re already dead

You’ll hear them whisper from shadowy wood

As the Haunters of Autumn send chills through the blood

 

The airs of October carry their voices

Half-heard gigglings and other strange noises

A whisper behind you that drifts through the air

Tells you their presence is about you somewhere

What are these creatures that haunt the gloom

Mocking and stalking with portents of doom?

The woods are alive with their tittering taunts

You walk alone on one of your nightly jaunts

Hearing your shrieks over the darkening plane

As the Haunters of Autumn leave you cold and insane