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The call to Weaver, woven long in song,
As eerie creeps through depths so dark and vast,
Like Winter seeping into spine—so wrong—
To call our death as sure as summer's past.

On winter solstice, due for day unmade,
Then Weaver comes to play—and seeks the hide.
As seven monks from River Oath have strayed,
A tomb is built, a fortress tall and wide.

On summer solstice, debt in day repaid,
Then Weaver sings—and hides away the sick.
As seven monks from bone their flesh have shed,
The tomb is melted into mists They lick.

So, children, call for Weaver not in jest,
For They may stir beneath your bed from rest.
Sammy 1d
Cannibalism starts with a kiss,
but I want to
offer him my blood,
and as cherry wine
pour it into a fancy glass,
I want to be served
on his dinner table
a three course meal,
save my heart for dessert,
and the only favor I will ask
is for him to use my fingertips
to clean the corners of his mouth.
A final act of intimacy,
for a fatal love.
william 4d
I saw him there, beneath the eaves
Standing with the dark
And although he made no move, nor sound
His presence there was stark

He was much like a wilting pane
His body cloaked in guile
I saw the turning of his face
The weeping in his smile

Entrenched there ‘low the jutting eaves
Ebbing with the wane
He then began towards the door
Jigging as he came

More a seize than jig, I’d say
Though it barely sought a word
A shuddering, a stuttering
But not a sound I heard

That fluxing smile stayed his face
As when he reached the door
And pondered for one awful breath
To motion with his claw

Gone inside and left my sight
I felt I too must go
If just to prove this vision false
To my senses dulled and slow

Inside I heard a shattering,
A shuddering, a blow
A muttering, a jittering
A shriek, but soft and low

I passed the door and by the hearth
Its embers bright and warm
And heard a sound pass in the ground
Like iron bees in swarm

Standing in the living room
He shuddered to and fro
As if the lights were flickering
And I too rapt to know

Upon the floor around the room
The bodies of some few
I shuddered as I took them in
He shuddered with me too
In the heart of the graveyard, where darkness lingers,
Trees bend and sway their dancing skeletal fingers,
Whispers of ghosts fill the midnight air,
A chilling ghostly melody, a silent prayer.

Demons lurking, their eyes aglow,
Dancing in circles where cold winds blow.
Torches on the mausoleum flame and shadows dance,
As spirits awaken from the grave with the night's advance.

The smoke rises higher, a sparkling fire,
A haunting tune from a spectral choir.
Close your eyes, stay quiet and still,
The spirits are playing, having a thrill.

In the depths of the graveyard shade,
Ghosts sing softly, a haunting serenade.
Goblins and ghouls in a flickering light,
Dancing around fires in the dark of night.

On a mid autumn's eve, when the veil is thin,
The spirits emerge and nightmares begin.
Vampires hide in the misty haze,
Their laughter echoes through a foggy maze.

The wind plays games on the fearful kind,
Graves cast eerie shadows rising behind,
Branches reaching fingers, leaves like skin,
In the heart of the graveyard where terror begins.

Firelight dances as witches take flight,
Beckoning spirits through the stillness of night.
Flames grow higher, shadows stretch long,
A chorus of spells in a caster's song.

Flee far away and don't you look back!
For the horrors are near, red eyes turned black,
Take cover in the shadows of the fallen trees,
Feel their breath on this all hallows eve!

Midnight gloom fades, the spirits retreat,
But the forest remembers their haunting beat.
When October returns and moonlight gleams,
The witches will laugh and ghosts will scream.
All Hallow's Night inspired Poetry.
In the distance I hear sirens in the night
As the clock strikes 1830
I hear the eerie sounds that
Sound like air raid sirens and then a news real
And some buzzing
I dare not to look out the window as this monster
Can mimic human voices
Thus every day on the dot
At 1830 I hear these ghostly sirens in the dark distance of the night
With in the forest beyond the window
Is a terror that is beyond comprehension
Something that is beyond nighmarish
But more ghoulish
To be honest I (f)ucking hate the end of the day
For this will
Never more
Come and take me away,
Green Feb 2
An icy cold hand ,
Dragging me through river styx .
He is not one to speak .
But the shadows of me asked,
"Why did I choose to die? "
The echoes crawled through the dead
Never bothered to be answered
Kinda of a short poem
Describing maybe sometimes death is in fact a punishment and something that cannot be sympathised with
In direct contrast to my other poem
Called "to persophone "
Syafie R Jan 30
He lay on the table,
his heart torn apart,
Fasted and hollow,
a soul from the start.
For eight long hours,
the surgeon would fight.
A scalpel in hand,
to restore what was right.

The Mayo scissors cut deep,
tearing through the skin.
Halsted forceps clenched,
pulling through sin.
A bypass to carry
what was broken inside,
but the heart, in silence,
began to collide.

Scream tore the air,
choking the breath,
crying for mercy,
for the end, for death.
With every stitch,
the room quaked and bled—
A love that could never
be healed or fed.

And when it was done,
the silence was worse.
The screaming had drowned
in an endless curse.
No suture could bind
what the heart couldn't bear.
A wound so deep,
not a soul could repair.
Saman Badam Jan 6
Blind and afraid, we step into the maze—
Walls of tall cornstalks and glowing pumpkin,
We walk right in the monster's sordid gaze,
A horror town luring us in through our kin.

We were blind to ignore its grim omen,
And now we pay by playing this cruel game,
No plot is untouched in this horror den;  
The town held hostage for an unknown aim.

We're ****** like dolls, like marionettes around.
Are we but actors in this dread story?
Again and again, for the next tale bound—
All of us live, if one hunts the quarry.

We'll survive this mockery of a tale;
Our goal is to game-master's plan derail!
A sonnet inspired by a web novel called 'The Game at Carousel' at Royal Road (or libgen)
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