<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Horror Poetry by Relf

 



 

Two

Two Twisted Love Sonnets from
your Humble Poetry Editor. . .

 

What’s not to love about the neighborhood witch?

Yet another Valentine’s Day rolls ‘round,
and there is no one to whom I belong;
but that’s the way I want it since I’ve found,
the man I love has really done me wrong.

There must be something wrong with me I think,
‘cause I’m not angry or even bitter. . .
Other women would prob’ly raise a stink,
then again, I’ve never been a quitter. . .

If you like, I’ll share with you my knowledge. . .
A few simple spells, hardly dangerous!
Chant these words, mix these herbs with his porridge;
tell him you love him, that he’s marvelous. . .

After winter’s thaw you won’t be so sore,
spring will burst through the compost of his gore.

 

 

Why not love a horror writer?


At first, you found them charming, witty, fun;
but after time had passed, you wondered what
it was that drew you to their dying sun,
as now you’re in dark space, your tether cut.

“Our plot has barely thickened,” one exclaimed,
and so you thought, he’s one of the good guys. . .
misunderstood, perhaps, but not ashamed,
to show his shadow side, his soul-less eyes.

Another fed you lies like poisoned roux,
a gourmet feast of paté-a-Etienne,
nestled in spring greens--blue eyes, two. . .
the rest of him en croute (may feed ten).

Since love rarely comes with warning labels,
go ahead—take a chance—if you’re stable.


© Relf, 2008

Terrie Leigh Relf is your humble poetry editor. Enter the labyrinth of her mind with a copy of The Poet’s Workshop—and Beyond, which will be released from Sam’s Dot Publishing mid-February.