Sacred Spirit came to me and reached out for my hand, whispered words of comfort so I could understand. Birth, Death Rebirth, Cycles of a whole never ending just eclipsed the cycles of the soul.

I sliced the arms and legs. I sew together each vein. Delicate patterns of lace, and the soft blush of first love. My palms are stained red. The needle slipped in, swiftly as the sleek body of a fish. Sans hésitation A gentle gush of warmth, Flowing freely from each cut. Catching in the cracks of the pavement And between my lovers lips These are only the amateur first strokes Of my watercolour painting. Next are the fingernails. which have endured the brunt for many years, Peeled back more layers Than there was time to grow back. Bitten down to bleeding crescents. One time too many, There is that rush of excitement At the promising sight of relief . I…

In the darkest night, where shadows creep, The Soulstitchers come when you should sleep. With gaunt and shadowy forms they stride, To haunted places, they will guide. Their flames are smoke, icy-cold and bleak, A formless fire that none can speak. Frantic movements, masks they wear, Tearing at their faces, a chilling scare. Yet in the silence, they move so sly, No sound to mark their passage by. To the site of trauma, they’ll lead you near, In hopes that you will face your fear. With them, your past they’ll help you mend, A journey through the dark, they’ll send. But beware the Soulstitchers’ plight, For in their presence, there’s no respite. So heed this rhyme when shadows play, And…

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a collection of “Horror Haiku” short poetry about Greek Mythology Monsters & Creatures. There are 5 poems about each creature. The idea behind this is to try guessing the name of each creature before unveiling the final Haiku. Three-headed hound guards, Entrance to the underworld, Terror from within.   Beneath the moon’s light, Fiery eyes, sharp teeth, red tongues, Hound of Hades’ realm.   Guarding the abyss, Three jaws, fangs dripping venom, Preys on the lost souls.   Three throats bellowing, Crimson eyes, teeth sharp as knives, Guarding gates of death.   Hear the beast’s loud howls, Snarls of teeth, and growls of rage, CERBERUS awaits.   ***   Fiend of the forest Gallop through the thicket…

In the blood-warm waters of dream There is a place A forest. In the center, a calm, frozen stream gleams in the moonlight Tall trees stand infinitely on all sides You cannot leave You have no desire to. It is dark Blurred streaks of blues and greens run seamlessly through the forest You know that there is a reason For this imprisonment each night The forest wants something from you. A thick silence Gentle wind softly brushes your face Leaves bristle in anticipation Mourning doves cry, and then they too, hold their breath How long has the forest been waiting? A stab of fear in your heart Asking Am I going to die? Must the branches of this place, the…

Ruby, crimson, scarlet. The colour of fire, of passion, of pain. Red. How I love it. It was beautiful. The boldness, the warmth of the colour stirred something deep inside me. It whispered to the very core of my being. Dark, seductive. Velvet promises of unrivalled pain and pleasure. It made me feel alive, but it was so rarely found pure and untouched. Red. Its essence, I could only behold it in fleeting glimpses. It always vanished before I could really appreciate that loveliness. Blossoms wilted, makeup faded, and the garments of passers-by were never the right shade. I hungered for something deeper, richer than those glimpses of beauty. It was then that something occurred to me… the colour of…

There’s a reason I won’t go to Mockingbird Park, Not just ‘cause it’s creepy, not just ‘cause it’s dark; There are twisty twined trees, there are weeds and neglect, But worse than all that is the “mocking” effect. As you walk the park paths, you’ll hear a faint echo – Footfalls – your own? – in that dim and grim ghetto, Coming closer and closer as if someone’s there… You whirl and see no one, just fog on the air. So you whistle – it whistles. You cough – and it coughs. Then from murky mists a gray shadow breaks off. It’s your height and your size and your very same shape, And then it’s upon you, no time to…

There’s a reason I won’t go to Mockingbird Park, Not just ‘cause it’s creepy, not just ‘cause it’s dark; There are twisty twined trees, there are weeds and neglect, But worse than all that is the “mocking” effect. As you walk the park paths, you’ll hear a faint echo – Footfalls – your own? – in that dim and grim ghetto, Coming closer and closer as if someone’s there… You whirl and see no one, just fog on the air. So you whistle – it whistles. You cough – and it coughs. Then from murky mists a gray shadow breaks off. It’s your height and your size and your very same shape, And then it’s upon you, no time to…

Ruby, crimson, scarlet. The colour of fire, of passion, of pain. Red. How I love it. It was beautiful. The boldness, the warmth of the colour stirred something deep inside me. It whispered to the very core of my being. Dark, seductive. Velvet promises of unrivalled pain and pleasure. It made me feel alive, but it was so rarely found pure and untouched. Red. Its essence, I could only behold it in fleeting glimpses. It always vanished before I could really appreciate that loveliness. Blossoms wilted, makeup faded, and the garments of passers-by were never the right shade. I hungered for something deeper, richer than those glimpses of beauty. It was then that something occurred to me… the colour of…

In the darkest night, where shadows creep, The Soulstitchers come when you should sleep. With gaunt and shadowy forms they stride, To haunted places, they will guide. Their flames are smoke, icy-cold and bleak, A formless fire that none can speak. Frantic movements, masks they wear, Tearing at their faces, a chilling scare. Yet in the silence, they move so sly, No sound to mark their passage by. To the site of trauma, they’ll lead you near, In hopes that you will face your fear. With them, your past they’ll help you mend, A journey through the dark, they’ll send. But beware the Soulstitchers’ plight, For in their presence, there’s no respite. So heed this rhyme when shadows play, And…

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a collection of “Horror Haiku” short poetry about Greek Mythology Monsters & Creatures. There are 5 poems about each creature. The idea behind this is to try guessing the name of each creature before unveiling the final Haiku. Three-headed hound guards, Entrance to the underworld, Terror from within.   Beneath the moon’s light, Fiery eyes, sharp teeth, red tongues, Hound of Hades’ realm.   Guarding the abyss, Three jaws, fangs dripping venom, Preys on the lost souls.   Three throats bellowing, Crimson eyes, teeth sharp as knives, Guarding gates of death.   Hear the beast’s loud howls, Snarls of teeth, and growls of rage, CERBERUS awaits.   ***   Fiend of the forest Gallop through the thicket…

Sacred Spirit came to me and reached out for my hand, whispered words of comfort so I could understand. Birth, Death Rebirth, Cycles of a whole never ending just eclipsed the cycles of the soul.

I sliced the arms and legs. I sew together each vein. Delicate patterns of lace, and the soft blush of first love. My palms are stained red. The needle slipped in, swiftly as the sleek body of a fish. Sans hésitation A gentle gush of warmth, Flowing freely from each cut. Catching in the cracks of the pavement And between my lovers lips These are only the amateur first strokes Of my watercolour painting. Next are the fingernails. which have endured the brunt for many years, Peeled back more layers Than there was time to grow back. Bitten down to bleeding crescents. One time too many, There is that rush of excitement At the promising sight of relief . I…

In the blood-warm waters of dream There is a place A forest. In the center, a calm, frozen stream gleams in the moonlight Tall trees stand infinitely on all sides You cannot leave You have no desire to. It is dark Blurred streaks of blues and greens run seamlessly through the forest You know that there is a reason For this imprisonment each night The forest wants something from you. A thick silence Gentle wind softly brushes your face Leaves bristle in anticipation Mourning doves cry, and then they too, hold their breath How long has the forest been waiting? A stab of fear in your heart Asking Am I going to die? Must the branches of this place, the…

There’s a reason I won’t go to Mockingbird Park, Not just ‘cause it’s creepy, not just ‘cause it’s dark; There are twisty twined trees, there are weeds and neglect, But worse than all that is the “mocking” effect. As you walk the park paths, you’ll hear a faint echo – Footfalls – your own? – in that dim and grim ghetto, Coming closer and closer as if someone’s there… You whirl and see no one, just fog on the air. So you whistle – it whistles. You cough – and it coughs. Then from murky mists a gray shadow breaks off. It’s your height and your size and your very same shape, And then it’s upon you, no time to…

Ruby, crimson, scarlet. The colour of fire, of passion, of pain. Red. How I love it. It was beautiful. The boldness, the warmth of the colour stirred something deep inside me. It whispered to the very core of my being. Dark, seductive. Velvet promises of unrivalled pain and pleasure. It made me feel alive, but it was so rarely found pure and untouched. Red. Its essence, I could only behold it in fleeting glimpses. It always vanished before I could really appreciate that loveliness. Blossoms wilted, makeup faded, and the garments of passers-by were never the right shade. I hungered for something deeper, richer than those glimpses of beauty. It was then that something occurred to me… the colour of…

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a collection of “Horror Haiku” short poetry about Greek Mythology Monsters & Creatures. There are 5 poems about each creature. The idea behind this is to try guessing the name of each creature before unveiling the final Haiku. Three-headed hound guards, Entrance to the underworld, Terror from within.   Beneath the moon’s light, Fiery eyes, sharp teeth, red tongues, Hound of Hades’ realm.   Guarding the abyss, Three jaws, fangs dripping venom, Preys on the lost souls.   Three throats bellowing, Crimson eyes, teeth sharp as knives, Guarding gates of death.   Hear the beast’s loud howls, Snarls of teeth, and growls of rage, CERBERUS awaits.   ***   Fiend of the forest Gallop through the thicket…

In the blood-warm waters of dream There is a place A forest. In the center, a calm, frozen stream gleams in the moonlight Tall trees stand infinitely on all sides You cannot leave You have no desire to. It is dark Blurred streaks of blues and greens run seamlessly through the forest You know that there is a reason For this imprisonment each night The forest wants something from you. A thick silence Gentle wind softly brushes your face Leaves bristle in anticipation Mourning doves cry, and then they too, hold their breath How long has the forest been waiting? A stab of fear in your heart Asking Am I going to die? Must the branches of this place, the…

In the darkest night, where shadows creep, The Soulstitchers come when you should sleep. With gaunt and shadowy forms they stride, To haunted places, they will guide. Their flames are smoke, icy-cold and bleak, A formless fire that none can speak. Frantic movements, masks they wear, Tearing at their faces, a chilling scare. Yet in the silence, they move so sly, No sound to mark their passage by. To the site of trauma, they’ll lead you near, In hopes that you will face your fear. With them, your past they’ll help you mend, A journey through the dark, they’ll send. But beware the Soulstitchers’ plight, For in their presence, there’s no respite. So heed this rhyme when shadows play, And…

I sliced the arms and legs. I sew together each vein. Delicate patterns of lace, and the soft blush of first love. My palms are stained red. The needle slipped in, swiftly as the sleek body of a fish. Sans hésitation A gentle gush of warmth, Flowing freely from each cut. Catching in the cracks of the pavement And between my lovers lips These are only the amateur first strokes Of my watercolour painting. Next are the fingernails. which have endured the brunt for many years, Peeled back more layers Than there was time to grow back. Bitten down to bleeding crescents. One time too many, There is that rush of excitement At the promising sight of relief . I…

Sacred Spirit came to me and reached out for my hand, whispered words of comfort so I could understand. Birth, Death Rebirth, Cycles of a whole never ending just eclipsed the cycles of the soul.