3 Horror Lunes

To make up for the lack of activity on this blog as of late I'm reprinting 3 of my short horror poems here. They originally appeared on Microcosms, June 2011.


River of Life

Flowing Southwards, intestines
meander through a decaying earth
mourning the sea.

The Tree

Wriggling roots seek
the cow barn. Hot bodies
quench its thirst.

Maniac

Blue eyes reflect
the red spillage. Laughter freezes
his victims mind.

Last Monday Poetry - Writing - Lost and Found

Writing - Lost and Found
by Katy Bennett

The ink in the barrel had dried,
words had lost their meaning,
their power. Just strings
of voiceless letters on a page.

(d
    e
      e
         p
            down something still breathed)

Unread paperbacks gathered dust
on the shelves. Pages stale as time
slid on. The wallpaper was more entertaining.

(D
    e
      e
        p
           down something sighed and wanted to surface.)

Weeks passed and he found a book in his hands
he thumbed the spine, slid his fingers between
the unopened pages. He read the back copy;
some tale that had once interested him.

(D
    e
      e
        p
          down something opened its eyes)

He read the first page followed by the second
meaning seeped back into the open book
and a fresh pen replaced the redundant one.

****
Missed last month's poetry? Read Love Poem to the Sea here.

Last Monday Poetry - Love Poem to the Sea

Love Poem to the Sea
by Katy Bennett

I am here
in this sprawling
concrete asylum
while you are there
a vastness beneath the sky
an endless body of calm and inspiration.

I envy the seagulls that circle above you
free and alive every day
while I fight
through the hordes day in
and day out. Growing
weary of the rat race
and the chains.

I’ll see you again soon, my love.

Missed last month's poetry? Read it here.

Last Monday Poetry

On the last Monday of the month, I'll be posting a poem or two

Journey’s End

Ragged black wings
circle above the hopes mangled
underneath tyres. Food for the crows.

XXXX

Gravedigger

Shovel struck earth
ripped soil open, prepared bed
for those sleeping.

Missed Last Months poem? Read it here

Other recent posts you may have missed
Poetry news - 3 Horrors Accepted
Writing resource - Why I Love A Good Freewrite

Poetry - A Poem's Sad Tale Of Copyright Infringement

A Poem’s Sad Tale Of Copyright Infringement

In violation, I stand upon this page
Digitalised for all to see. The words
that make my body stripped away
from my owner. Naked, I fill this strange
space that is alien to me. Against my will
I am a crime of this technological age.
How easy for you to take me.

Note: As my blog schedule is getting a little bit thin I will be designating the last Monday of the month poetry day. Other posts will include book reviews once or twice a month and my row80 progress will be posted every Wednesday.

Last ROW80 check in and bonus poem

Seeing as I've spent most of the day thinking it's Thursday anyway and awhile ago I designated Thursday night as my do nothing night I'm doing the last check in tonight.

Thinking back over row80 as always when I first start something I got off to a pretty good start even though the word count was low and I was reacquainting myself with writing fiction again and was starting from 1st base despite the years I'd written short fiction for.

Things started to go wrong when I started changing my goals, each new attempt kept me going for a few days then I'd hit a bump that would flip me high in the air and drop me back but way off course.

I'm still bemused by March being so unproductive, there are two months in the year where I expect that I won't get anything done and they are generally February and November.

Learning wise, I've kept going in a roundabout manner. I've lost that fear of putting work aside and knowing that I'll never come back to. I can come back to it and the words will always be there. I'm losing that fear of never being able to finish something I've started and a ton of other stuff I can't think of right now.

Over the last couple of days I finished Assignment 2 and finished the replacement prologue for Shroud Of Death.

I'm going to say goodbye and special thanks to all the row80 writers for the community.

Hope

The photographer studied the graffiti
through his viewfinder, he paced back and forth
left and right until the alignment was just right.
He peered over the top of the camera getting one last look
at the word painted on the red brick wall.

He assumed from the crudeness that a child
had stood on tips toes outlining the word
with a brush dipped in black paint, then coloured
in the H O P and E white. The child had then painted
a thick purple border around its masterpiece.

Hope one word that says it all
in a rundown part of London
where children play in the streets
in filthy trainers and clothes too big
for their small frames hemmed in
by council estates and rubbish bags
piled on street corners.

One word Hope is all the photographer
needs as he takes the shot.

Horror Poetry - Sand Man by Katy Bennett

Sand Man

I watch you lying on the beach,

We are alone together with the endless sea.

I stroke your damp hair beneath a moonlit sky.

Your tattoo of a serpent points out to sea,

As if yearning to escape beneath the black waves.

You are perfection. My obsession.

My strength and my weakness.

I sprinkle a handful of sand over your torso.

They sit like crumbs in your navel,

Your gentle rise and fall of breath

Sheds the grains back onto the beach.

I sprinkle more sand over you.

They fall in your hair and cling to the wet strands.

You are mine. I won’t let anyone else have you.

I bury you up to your knees.

I made you, shaped you, gave you a reason to live

But you tried to leave me while the stars watched.

I work tirelessly. Afraid

The sleeping pills will lose their effect.

I kiss your serpent one last time

And then smother it in yellow grains.

I caress your stomach and pecks

Before saying goodbye.

There will be no pain for you,

I hold enough for both of us.

Only your head is visible now,

I remember how your lips moved over my body.

How I drowned in your blue eyes.

Angry, I throw sand at your sleeping lids.

Soon my work is done,

I have said my final goodbye.

I love you, my sand man.

Poem - London

London

London dreams
Of Dickinson days
When its secrets
Were swathed in fog.

Free Read - Poem - Ethereal Flame

Ethereal Flame

Spinning around before me
yet only a flicker of a flame
behind my mesmerised eyes.

Hypnotically, it shimmers
and dances in the pale moonlight,
an ethereal beauty.

I sway on my feet, in time
with the branches in the wind
and still this supernatural substance
holds me in its power.

I don't know how it came to be -
this off -white form. Shadows join the dance,
their black veils sliding over this maiden of light.

I blink my eyes and she is gone.
I search for her in the deepening night
until the sun's glare brings me back to reality.

Katy Bennett = Horror Poetry