At the dark end of a wayward street

Atop a bare and lonely crest

Sits the old man’s mansion replete

Bespoke in tendrilled ivy vest


Lone barren tree, a stick-figured soul

Stripped of its life by the bitter cold

Stands gnarled guardian on patrol

For the spirits the house does hold


Wrought iron fence and sunken posts

There to serve as your only guide

To an open creaking gate that boasts

‘Welcome to the Other Side’


Across this threshold have come the few

Thinking abode holds nothing they fear

A brave and intrepid lot is true

Unprepared for what lives here


For here the haunted memories hang

Like the crooked shutters on its face

A spectral and malfeasant gang

A demonic and dusty race


In here where there is no light of day

Feasted upon by shadowed hosts

I am the unwitting cast away

In my mansion filled with ghosts




11 Responses to “Haunted”
  1. I got totally sucked into your words and the ending came as a shocker to me! Once again, you eloquently draw a visual picture with each line. Exquisitely written!

  2. I love poems telling a story. This one is the best read for bitter cold nights near a campfire. Brilliantly written Brad 😊 👌

  3. Jim Borden says:

    I hope this is fiction 🙂 And bespoke and tendrilled (which I had to look up) in the same line- impressive!

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