Sunday, January 29, 2012


The willows weep
because their plot
is filled with tortured souls
that try to sleep
but only rot
within their shallow holes
and when the windy winter blows
it whispers of the willows woes.

An evil man
whose mind has snapped
dug every heinous grave
his cleaning van
is where he trapped
each unsuspecting slave
the victims of his twisted whims
interred beneath those weeping limbs.

When out at night
don't ever stop
or talk to someone new
because they might
just plan to chop
you up when they are through
to leave you where nobody knows
lamented by embittered boughs.


Paul Andrew Russell said...

A very dark and foreboding piece of poetry, Bob. Very well written.

Unknown said...

A very dark, and mysterious piece. I enjoyed reading it!
-Erick F.

rch said...

Thanks Paul and Eric, too many hours reading Stephen King must have sparked this one.