"Muddy Shapes in Fog" (Entry 533)

Travelling all night

Reach forest end.

Slow going 

on motorbikes,

dodging the main,

opting for dirt.

Tracks thick with mud,

this time of year.

Riders wearing most of it.

Them and the bikes.

Ears and mouth and guards

full of mud.

Taste of sodden soil, 

wet grass and worse.

Drink from water bottles.

Don’t wash.

Don’t waste.

Mist, their companion.

Throughout the night

lay heavier within the enveloping trees.

Ancient wood stretching out,

deeper than sight could see,

or mind imagine.

Fog swirled around headlamps.

The only bright disturbing the black.

Snapping sound.

Handlebars swung to focus light

to the forest.

Shape in the fog.

Their nightmares became real.

"It's Cyn for a Bridesmaid" (Entry 527)

Cynthia smoothed the bridesmaid’s dress front.

Neon orange taffeta with shit brown velvet ribbon sash,

designed to look good on nobody, except the bride,

who wore a dazzling array of crystals and net in 

‘hasn’t-been-a-virgin-since-the-ninth-grade’ white.

“I won’t wear it! I won’t!” 

Cynthia screamed in the privacy of her own thoughts.

It was the only place 

she was going to find decent conversation tonight,

in this cacophony of chavs, 

otherwise known as The Bridal Party.

 

“Thia! This!”

Someone called her in her least favourite nickname.

“Thia! I was just telling Jade that it’s your fifth time.

As they say, Always a Bridesmaid…”

“Never A Bride!” 

The others joined in, howls of laughter.

Five tango’d 

fake tanned 

fake personality 

harpies hooting and ganging up.

Holler after shriek, after pointing after snarl.

This was the pinnacle,

Or was she just being cynical?

She had to do it, didn’t she?

They deserved it.

They bullied her.

In fact, it was self-defence.

She couldn’t wear that dress

or put up with them.

She had to do it.

The last words they heard was her call.

She was still telling the police as they led her away

from the bloodbath and carnage of the bridal party.

"My name is Cyn! I’m Cyn!

Do you hear me? I’m Cyn!”

"Day to Night" (Entry 509)

Cemetery by day

Is pleasant, in it’s own way.

Cemetery by night.

Full of darkness and fright.

"The Mass of Mound" (Entry 493)

Woman slept as belly writhed. 

Attempt unconscious to manoeuvre bulk.

A grunt of discomfort before giving up.

Still mass beneath rolled and quivered.

Movement never-ending.

Surprise now, and from the beginning.

Unplanned, from one night stand.

Not unusual ‘round here.

Celebrations, congratulations.

A visit to the social.

Though no one noticed her late of medical checks,

or that bump grew at alarming rate.

Did anyone else crave sunflower oil?

Gallons and gallons, she drank.

Plastic bottles, and metal cans,

lay empty and glistening beside her bed.

No one seemed to think this strange,

or think about it at all.

A block in their vision, their processes.

She whimpered, greasy mouth wiped.

Lay a hand on undulating mound.

Movements intensified. Pushing up, fighting. 

She screamed once, as the unknown ‘un-baby’

began to eat its way out.

"Hallowe'en Travels" (Entry 488)

Husky hushed whispers 

This vesper time. 

No song, this eve'n. 

Only tear-stained dusk. 

As it must. 

A deathly air caresses this twilight. 

Darktide stallions take flight. Beware!

For they're worse than nightmares. 

Allowed from their world, past 'in-between.'

They have the power on Hallowe'en. 

******************

Happy Hallowe'en!

🌜👻🎃👻🌛

"On Your Marks, Get Spooky!" (Entry 486)

Week of scares. 

Catch unawares. 

Hide in places

And watch their faces. 

All good fun

For everyone. 

Give a cheer,

Halloween is near!

"Evil Does" (Entry 447) *horror

Caress that sectile space. 

A dream of damaged determinant in distant destiny. 

Naught distant. Due now!

Tied lithe limbs. 

Ready for bidden behaviour

Listed before. In this state. And places to be. 

Hidden, unfound, below ground. 

Unfounded suspicions - a truth to lie upon. 

Snatch scalpel, sharp-contrast against supple skin. 

Don't be shy. Dig in!

"House Unloved" (Entry 432)

Uninviting,

No welcome mat before

Great rusted iron doors. 

Decades decay,

Peeling pea green paint,

Sticky splintered structure,

ancient. 

Derelict dire darkness. 

Place for dead?

Not yet. 

Unloved. Unwanted. 

A house that forgot it was once a home.

"Fantasy to Fact" (Entry 365)

He caresses the blade,

Stroking it as he does his shaft. 

Gently. Long

Firmly. Strong. 

It's edge digging into his palm. 

The blood trickles down his arm to elbow. 

It drips, 

then flows

landing on her flesh. 

At his feet on cold concrete. 

Exposed skin. 

Naked. Bound. 

Pink tainted blue against grey. 

He's ready to render it to red. 

His fantasy

turned fact.

*******

Happy One Year of Poems to me!

Here at 555poet, I've reached the number I achieved on 365poet2010. 

Now onwards and upwards, onto the next 190 days of fun, verse, tales and maybe a few tears. 

Thank you for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy the journey!

"A Children's Shop Lost in Time" (Entry 260)

There is a creepy children's shop.
Selling all their clothing needs.
With mannequins of the girly type,
dressed in lace, flounces and rigid petticoats.
Stuck in a rut?
Or time drift back to Edwardian times
or Victorian fancy -
each one a life-sized freaky doll
with rictus grins.
You're welcome within.

Dusty dusky pink velvet drapes
hang stiff at the windows and
along the walls like
long-forgotten music hall.
With pre-war signage on
black glossed exterior and awning
- a yawning double door to pull you in.
Turns from shop to gothic funeral parlour
for the small ones.
Step right in and look beyond.

I'd love to meet the owner... but then again... maybe not!

"Dreamer Fever" (Entry 206)

Night sweats in dreams of dripping jets.
Dreams of fever frightens the deceiver.
As heart slams to ribs breaking,
Muscle quiver as nerves aching
To shout, "Let Me Out!"
Despairing nightmares
catch viral unawares.

"Darken Eve Invites" (Entry 159)

I'll rattle the windows and enter through cracks.
I'll cause frights in the dark, send shivers up backs.
I'll shriek like a ghost, and moan like a ghoul.
For I'm the Night Wind, and terror's my tool.