Two Poems

Luke Hannon

The widow's son and I were sometime ambling on the moor, 

When suddenly a darkness from the ether came afore,

That knocked us both back sharply, was the power of its breath,

For something in the midst of it did scare us half to death.


If there were some way that I'd revisit what was seen,

Know that there are crueller things that would not make me scream,

But this was some unearthly thing, a remnant of the night,

When I drew its form inside, I trembled at the sight.


You may think me coward, yet I turned and rushed away,

But never did outrun it, for it haunts me to this day,

My poor companion never left the peril of that black,

Though nothing you could offer me would bid me travel back.

On the Blackened Moor

The Foliage

The trees are closing in on me,

The light is growing low,

I hear the creak of twisted things,

There's nowhere left to go.


Closer now, the shadows creep

Out of the sordid dark,

All gnarly claws, ferocious teeth,

And sickened, broken bark.


I try to run, but everywhere,

Those wicked, eldritch fiends,

A screech so loud, to wake the dead,

It brings me to my knees.


In coldness, I awaken,

Everything is black,

Nothing to hold onto,

Never getting back.

Luke Hannon is an author and poet from County Meath, Ireland. His obsession with horror began when he walked in on his brother and his friend watching Resident Evil Apocalypse on an old second-hand tv. He currently possesses three third-level qualifications, but no job.