Category Archives: poem

More Regrets Than Glories, by Rick Powell

A collection of dark poetry just hit the market, written by friend and talented author, Rick Powell. You may remember Rick from his guest appearance on April 3rd, 2015, when he shared a few poems from his book, My Soul Stained, My Seed Sour. A little over a year later, Rick is back with his new book, More Regrets Than Glories, and another poem to share. If you enjoy what you read, consider picking up a copy of the book, please.

KINDLE: https://www.amazon.com/More-Regrets-Than-Glories-collection-ebook/dp/B01GANL3U6?ie=UTF8&keywords=more+regrets+than+glories&qid=1464492710&ref_=sr_1_1&s=digital-text&sr=1-1

PRINT: http://www.lulu.com/shop/rick-powell/more-regrets-than-glories/paperback/product-22694866.html

 

The Coachman

The dark coachman stopped at my house this Autumn night,
I was hesitant as I stepped up to the cold seat to sit at his side,
His countenance was in shadow from the hood of his aged cloak,
We started on without a word as through the forest we did ride.

I then wrapped the thick wool blanket around my thin, pale form,
Ma said I have had the chills for days and nothing could cure my ill,
Pa had no money since this year the crops were bad all around,
I asked “Where are we going?” but the coachman’s voice was silent still.

I looked back to my home and at the windows dark as the blackest pitch,
The forest beyond my house was even more dark and silent in the night,
My memories of the last days were muddled and I hope to be well soon,
I hope that this fever will pass and I will be better by the morning light.

I remember my parents talking about the Doc at the edge of the other town,
They were most frantic as my Ma kept a cool rag on my burning head,
I passed in and out of the blackness as I heard them arguing about what to do,
I felt my skin was braised by the fires of Hell, even though cold sweat filled my bed.

Why would they send me with this coachman, when my health was most dire?
Why did they not come with me, my only family that I have ever known?
Why does this dark horse that pulls us seem to be a beast out of a nightmare?
Why do I see a deathly grin of the coachman, when the Autumn moon is shown?

mrtg

“Remedy” by Lindsey Goddard – video and narration by Lee Harral

Hey, guys! I’m popping by to post a quick video. My friend and fellow creative mind Lee Harral produced an eerie video narration of my poem “Remedy”. I hope you enjoy. Subscribe to his YouTube channel if you like it!

Remedy
By Lindsey Goddard

Withered skin and yellow teeth,
Gritty tongue, a stifled call.
Blinding sun adds injury
To her rigor mortis crawl.
Brittle nails, like insect wings
As her frail hands try to claw
To salvation she can suckle
With her chapped and pale-blue maw.

Shards of mirror in the sunlight,
Casting shapes across her picture.
He emerges from the shadows,
Twisted smile. He can fix her.
Spider veins and severed limbs,
It’s too late to sew and stitch her.
Lips strain open; he pours in
Another dose of the elixir.

Dark poetry by Lindsey Goddard

The great response we’ve received to horror poetry so far has got me itching to share one of my own. Do you mind if I steal the spotlight for a moment? The following poem has been published twice. In 2009, it appeared in the anthology Mausoleum Memoirs, and in 2013, it appeared in the October issue of Infernal Ink Magazine. It’s my favorite poem I’ve written. I hope you enjoy it. Well… as much as one can enjoy gloom and doom. 🙂

Within These Walls
By: Lindsey Goddard

A ghost who mourns; her earthly name
was tarnished by the word “insane”.
The curse of life: her mortal bane,
her rival… ’til she stopped the pain.

Her name is now synonymous
with how she chose the Reaper’s kiss,
and how she stopped her heart for this–
eternal ache, with no dismiss.

And now she floats within these walls,
follows me down every hall,
eyes me from the shower stall,
begging me to hear her call.

“Lobotomy,” she heard them say
on that strange and frightful day,
“is sure to wipe her tears away.”
Choked up, her father said “okay.”

An ear still pressed against the door,
she listened as the doctor swore
her grief and strife would be no-more.
His words, they chilled her to the core.

She ran until her legs gave out,
chest heaving with her final shout,
“It ends right here, there is no doubt!”
And she began to look about.

The gallows towered in the distance.
She ignored her limbs’ resistance.
Permitting not a moment’s hindrance,
she bid this world a curt good riddance.

Her tortured soul, it didn’t stay
near her gallows of dismay.
From its deathbed it did stray,
finding its way home that day.

And now she floats within these walls,
follows me down every hall,
eyes me from the shower stall,
begging me to hear her call.

Her name is now synonymous
with how she chose the Reaper’s kiss,
and how she stopped her heart for this–
eternal ache, with no dismiss.

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