Haunted. by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Why, why do I stare at the dark man

he's back in those black, dreary shadows.

Down those thirteen steps, into the cellar.

I see his eyes, a chalky white, staring, glaring;

his teeth crooked and stained, glistening.

He fades in and out, like an old tv signal

I see him there, with his acrimonious grin.

On Sunday's, before our big family meal,

sneaking to the basement, a peek at the corner

he's there, he's always there, always staring,

always glaring, forever daring me; come closer.

But no, no, no, I won't, I cannot. I have neither

the strength of heart nor pious virtue to oblige.

Now, tis a game of wonderance, I go to the cellar;

watch the dark man staring back at me, glaring,

beckoning, "come closer". Never, never say I;

but, never is a very long time, perhaps today?

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, prize winning poet and fabulist from New Hampshire, now residing on the plains of Oklahoma.  He has three poetry collections, "The Cellaring", 80 poems of light horror, paranormal, weird and wonderful work. His second book, "A Taint of Pity", contains 52 Life Poems Written with a Cracked Inflection. Ken's third poetry collection, "Zephyr's Whisper", 64 Poems and Parables of a Seasonal Pretense, and includes his poem, "With Charcoal Black, Version III", selected as the First Prize Winner in Realistic Poetry International's recent Nature Poem Contest. Ken won First Prize for his Haiku on Southern Collective Experience. Ken loves writing, hiking, thunderstorms, and spending time with his cats Willa and Yumpy.