Tag: poem
A WALK THROUGH THE SHADOWS
Why I Write in the Dark There has always been something fascinating to me about the darkness. Not simply the frightening kind, but the mysteries hidden inside it—the things we cannot explain, the choices we make when we’re afraid, and the question of what… Continue Reading “A WALK THROUGH THE SHADOWS”
BATTLE OF THE BLADE
“Battle of the Blade” Salt bleeds into the cold ground, The demon makes a heavy sound. He stands before her open eyes, Underneath the empty skies. His fire hits against the stone, She stands in the dark alone. He offers her a crown of… Continue Reading “BATTLE OF THE BLADE”
CARNAL ROT
“Carnal Rot” I was pinned to the ground Jaws snapping at my face. Trying to fight back but its strength is overwhelming Skin tearing, ripping a chunk of meat from my neck, cold air, blood My body jerks Violently. The virus rushes through my… Continue Reading “CARNAL ROT”
DROWNING IN THE INK
Putting your secrets and pain into writing is the way you hide your experiences while releasing your emotions.
THE RUN
“The Run” I ran until my lungs were dry and thin, I crossed the water where the weeds are high; I thought I’d lost the shadow of my sin, Or whatever it is that doesn’t let me die. My throat is raw. My boots… Continue Reading “THE RUN”
THE COLD GAP
“The Cold Gap” The snap was loud. One beat hit, the next failed. I was out. The room stayed. I had no weight. I stood there, thin and cold, watching my skin go gray. I hit the air. It did not move. I am… Continue Reading “THE COLD GAP”
THE ENDING OF THE SEAM
“The Ending of the Seam” Written in response to PS Conway’s poem, “Impeccable” I’m tired of the bird on the stone, and the way the ravens won’t leave me alone. You thought you sewed me up so tight, hidden away from any kind of… Continue Reading “THE ENDING OF THE SEAM”
SANTA’S JOLLY CHRISTMAS
A horror poem about a child-eating Santa Clause by horror author P.S. Kessell
THE PERFECT SQUARE
“The Perfect Square” The picture stared out from the white, Held stiffly in its smooth, chrome frame, The painted people offered no light, Sealed tight behind the polished pane. Each solid edge was measured by rule, Only one flat, strange color I saw, The… Continue Reading “THE PERFECT SQUARE”