Tuesday, October 26, 2010

A Taste of Terror

Carousel to Hell
By Robin Moyer

Tattered ticket stubs
scattered around
litter the ground--
imagine the clown
on the merry-go-round.

Once a noble steed
strong and true
bedecked in flowers
with shiny hooves
and flowing mane
now a swayed back
rib jutting,
saliva drooling,
backbone piercing
old nag.

Circling round and round
And round and round
and round and round
and round
and round

No calliope.
No light, sprightly waltz.
Stuck record repetition--
illusive half recalled fragment
of some forgotten tune.

Brass rings tarnished.
Forever out of reach.
Black, befouled beneath
the bloody headed vulture
Watching Waiting.
Should the spinning cease.

Spiral spinnings
blurred surroundings
Haunted faces
Or are they reflections?
Refracted reflections

Sideshow mirrors reflect
wild eyed one
dimensional images
caught in freeze frame.
Face whiter than bone,
eyes bruised with lack of sleep.
I do not know me.
I am a stranger.

Ahead of me
mere shells of themselves
each clutching that brass ring
I could never manage to reach.
I cannot catch up.
I dare not fall behind.
Pursuing me,
nightmare caricatures
on charging beasts
follow on the heels
of my deception.

Won’t stop, long ride
Can’t stop, lose stride
Round and round
Up and down
Sing-song tune
Night ‘till noon.

Can’t get off
I’ll fall.
Can’t stay on
I’ll fall.
I’m falling anyway

Mocking laughter rides
the nearby roller coaster
pitching and careening out over the sea.
At least if you survive
the death spiral
you can get off
at the end of the ride
tho' false bravado
hides pounding blood.


Frozen moments
Defining seconds
Replayed ad infinitum. . .

Enflamed images careening
Sweat slicked pole
Stick fingers hanging on
Can’t let go.
Can’t stop
Spinning off
Out of control
Spinning ever faster

Hunger gnaws deep
for more than
stale popcorn emptiness
kernels of
tooth-breaking truth--
for more than sweet memories
of cotton candy fluff.

Scent of rain mingles
with well trod sawdust
coating my throat:
swallow caught in shadow.

Images ooze together
like smeared paint.
Can’t focus
Up, down
Around around
Forward backward
Doesn’t matter.
Going onward
Going nowhere.
No where to go.
Tethered on the
edge of consciousness

On the
Carousel to Hell

© Copyright 2010 Robin Moyer. All rights reserved.
Robin Moyer has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

The Hunter
By Adriana Noir

Slinking through the shadows, the wakened beast starts to rage.
Cursed and bound to endless dark, he hates his moonlit cage.
Longing for a taste of light, the hunger swells within.
Lips pulled taut across his fangs, he dons a feral grin.

Corded muscle starts to quiver with the song of night.
Snout turned up to sniff the air, he tracks his victim’s flight.
Yellow parchment wings expand with a muted rustle.
Deadened twigs crack in the woods ‘neath his victim’s hustle.

Her pounding heart provides the song pulsing in his ears.
Flee and chase, a pointless game, performed throughout the years.
Razor talons glint beneath the silver glow of moon.
Eyes slit with enraptured bliss, he knows it will be soon.

Caught up in the thrill of hunt, the demon gives a howl.
Withered leaves fall below; he emits a smell most foul.
Pungent sulfur fills the air; his victim starts to cry.
Blinded by a veil of tears, she knows she’s gonna die.

Sprawled in savage tumble, they go crashing to the ground.
His amber eyes dance with glee; she begs without a sound.
With an ominous rumble, he claims his frightened bride.
Wings pressed flat against his back, he thrusts his fist inside.

Prize in hand and bathed in blood, he holds her stilling heart.
Depraved, he licks it clean and beholds the Devil’s art.
Coiled over crimson form, he eats his fallen foe.
Take heed when in shadow, or this hunter you will know.

© Copyright 2010 Adriana Noir. All rights reserved.
Adriana Noir has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

By Carla Ralston

When darkness overcomes the light,
And twilight steals across the land,
When sunlight disappears from sight,
The Shadow People all join hands.

Beneath the stars their dance begins.
On silent feet they march as one.
Their music is the moaning wind
And scratching branches beat their drum.

Around my house the Shadows creep.
Outside my door they writhe and glide.
Although I'm tired, I must not sleep.
I dare not let them come inside.

Outside my window they all stand.
Their twisted fingers reach for me.
If I dare let them take my hand,
A Shadow just like them I'll be.

I hear their whispered voices say,
"Open the door. Don't be afraid.
Come with us now. Come out and play.
We'll let you join our dark parade."

I hide beneath my quilt all night,
Just praying for the break of day
When waking birds sing back the light
And Shadow People fade away.

© Copyright 2010 Carla Ralston. All rights reserved.
Carla Ralston has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

The Monster
By Max Griffin

At rest in bed I dream a dream
of monsters who await
in darkness where they plot and scheme
With hearts that beat with hate.

My mind sees beasts with eyes agleam.
Their furry paws create
A whispered shuffle to make me scream,
And limbs with fear gyrate.

These creatures snarl and sound extreme,
Their yowls and howls so great
And mighty shake my room. They seem
So harsh and won't abate.

Yet monsters tremble when I scream!
They flee and hide and wait.
Perhaps they fear what humans deem
To be a normal state.

Could they be like me, I dream?
Perhaps we can create
Not fear but friendship. So I beam
A smile and risk my fate.

Henceforth in bed I can allow
My friend with me to cower.
The dark still scares us but we now
Bring comfort to each other.

© Copyright 2010 Max Griffin. All rights reserved.
Max Griffin has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Along the wall, shadows flicker,
Down the hall, an evil snicker.
Whispered voices in the dark,
Evil choices to be embarked.

Their masters demands, they must comply,
Through muffled hands, a baby’s cry.
Torn from his mothers womb,
Satan’s son, to be raised soon.

For her child, a mother pleads,
Innocence defiled, as evil feeds.
Upon deaf ears, her cries fall,
Released in fear, their masters call.

Answered with a ritual chant,
A risen myth, that won’t recant.
The shadows bow, a mother weeps,
Silent now, the child sleeps.

© Copyright 2010 Lisa McCourt Hollar. All rights reserved.
Lisa McCourt Hollar has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

The Dark Rider 
By Ranee Dillon
Bitterer is the darkened night
I watched the horseman take to flight.
Across the western sky he blazed
Through the ashen misty haze.
Bitterer now, my last lament
For the horseman was not heaven sent.
Jagged walls, red hands hit
Trapped forever in the blacken pit.
Bitterer still, the dawn moved near,
No one’s left to shed a tear.
Bodies bound then thrown in heaps;
Souls in deadly silence reaped. 

© Copyright 2010 Ranee Dillon. All rights reserved.
Ranee Dillon has granted Knight Chills non-exclusive rights to display this work.

 A big THANK YOU to all my friends. 

Thanks for stopping by and...


  1. Really fab poetry collection. Use of language by the fine poets incites my imagination. :D Inspiring.

  2. These poets are great. Thanks for your comments Mary.