WELCOME TO GRANDMA’S

High upon a hill sits this house of darkness,

Hiding beyond some one hundred-year-old trees that sway in the wind. 

To stumble upon it is a deadly thing but to enter will be a house of hell,

Out of gas in the dead of night, clouds cover the moon.

A group of friends with no Idea what waits,

This house can not be seen from below as nothing else is around.

Their curiosity to walk up the path has no reason,

Fear of being stranded or of what may lie ahead.

Picture grandma dressed in clothes of comfort, an apron,

Her hair up in a bun, baking cookies, pies, and other treats.

there may be a warm hello at the door but grandma has a surprise for you,

You’re staying the night, one hell of a night.

The door opens and there’s an excited greeting for these poor, stranded strangers,

She welcomes them and invites them to have dinner and stay the night.

What a night it will be, the wind is howling as a storm settles over this town,

After dinner Grandma shows them to their rooms, there’s a warm fire glowing

As everyone gets ready for bed and a stormy night.

An echo of a scream is heard through the darkened house,

Nothing to be found as all search around.

A light from the kitchen for those to see,

There stands the sweet, old lady preparing tomorrow’s feast.

Through the rain-driven night, behind the thunder that hides

The hellish screams, It is she who is called grandma who smiles

With delight.

No longer are they here at this old house,

Grandma likes to feast on Halloween.

Keith Garrett

                          WELCOME TO GRANDMA’S

High upon a hill sits this house of darkness,

Hiding beyond some one hundred year  old trees that sway in the wind. 

To stumble upon it is a deadly thing but to enter will be a house of hell,

Out of gas in the dead of night, clouds cover the moon.

A group of friends with no Idea what waits,

This house can not be seen from below as nothing else is around.

Their curiosity to walk up the path has no reason,

Fear of being stranded or of what may lie ahead.

Picture grandma dressed in clothes of comfort, an apron,

Her hair up in a bun, baking cookies, pies, and other treats.

there may be a warm hello at the door but grandma has a surprise for you,

You’re staying the night, one hell of a night.

The door opens and there’s an excited greeting for these poor, stranded strangers,

She welcomes them and invites them to have dinner and stay the night.

What a night it will be, the wind is howling as a storm settles over this town,

After dinner grandma shows them to their rooms, there’s a warm fire glowing

As everone gets ready for bed and a stormy night.

An echo of a scream is heard through the darkened house,

Nothing to be found as all search around.

A light from the kitchen for those to see,

There stands the sweet, old lady preparing tomorrows feast.

Through the rain driven night, behind the thunder that hides

The hellish screams, It is she who is called grandma who smiles

With delight.

No longer are they here at this old house,

Grandma likes to feast on Halloween.

Keith Garrett

              WHAT’S IN THE DARK?

Don’t open the door! don’t turn off the lights! not tonight,

It comes from anywhere and everywhere, it comes without light.

It sees you, it can hear you breathe, afraid! so afraid on this night,

From a long time ago, it is what was hiding under your bed, in the dark.

Peeking in your window as you covered your face, shaking in your bed,

You thought you could hide, foolish as you started to cry, it’s alive!

The thing that worried you, thoughts from your mind, in your closet,

hiding,

So young as it overpowered that childish imagination locked inside.

Can you hear it, do you feel it as you’re certain it watches with eyes,

Forgot did you too close that closet door, do you believe it opens more?

Down the hall, what do you hear, yours is the only open door near,

Has it followed you into today, are you afraid of yesterday?

What’s in the dark, does it stay under your bed, is it in your window,

Does it hide in the closet, could it be coming for you down the hall?

What’s in the dark as you remember, has it followed you from yesterday,

Will it ever, ever leave your Halloween, will it ever, ever leave your today?

        Keith Garrett

                                                         PORFINIFIGUS

Where he comes from nobody knows, he does live,

A myth, a fable, only a child believes, one who has seen.

Along the river bank of a small Eastern town in Maine,

A place of play for a boy named Luke, this is no dream.

Many fantastic tales he does tell, who will listen this time,

Described to others as a type of elf, an ugly troll.

Many late afternoons are when Luke visits the river,

Today it is a bit windy, he will appear once more.

He speaks to Luke in whispers,” I am Porfinifigus’

“I am created from your thoughts and fear”

“Why do you find me here each day, are you real”

I told you that I live in you, ” you gave me a name”

“There are wishes that you ask for, I can hear you”

“With every wish comes a curse”

“I have many things to wish for, ” will they be mine”

“For everything you receive, something I will take”

“I wish for all things in this town to be mine”

“Foolish boy, everything in this town will be no more”

           Keith Garrett

                                              WHEN THE PHONE RINGS

A dark, stormy, night, I can hear the wind howl in the distance,

The rain pounds against the rooftop, there’s no one home, I’m alone.

A glow from the fireplace, the fire is warm as the shadows dance on the wall,

It would appear so peaceful to be safe and warm on this night, who is alright?

A random ring of the phone echoes  throughout this quiet, empty house,

I answer as any routine call, a little static as a voice says a most fearful hello.

When the phone rings anything can become real, tonight! he speaks of tales,

He lets you know he’s still alive, your night is now of horror, a nightmare tonight.

He has your number, he knows you’re quite alone in your, out in the country, home,

What does he say when he calls, does he whisper such fear into your ear,

Will this be your last call, will you ever again hear the phone ring?

Keith Garrett

FACES OF FEAR,

MASKS

There is no big top, for the children they do not entertain,

They do not run around with smiles of delight, not tonight.

They wear expressions of emotion, what is felt inside,

Tonight, faces of fear, they come out, come out from wherever they are.

Halloween, when many unusual and terrifying events take place,

You look at them with smiles and frowns, are they clowns,

Perhaps their masks hide the evil terror waiting for you.

They sing and dance but not this night, they wear your fright,

As daylight disappears and the dark of night settles, they stir.

Faces of fear are alive tonight as they come for you, just you,

Masks are worn, these are their pictures of doom tonight.

A clown is a clown but for them it’s all turned upside down,

Claws for hands here in this Halloween land, now they dance.

Teeth are shown sharp and full by misfits always laughed at,

With a touch, with a haunting laugh you will be what they are.

Your mask will be real, It will show all that you feel, your clown.

Tonight these are the demons who wear the face you hide.

They follow you wherever you go, their gift to you is torment.

To you the gift of hell and pain is from them, their mask to you,
,
Your nightmare is a clown, you awake a nightmare.

Keith Garrett

                                                          WHAT WATCHES

The dreams were there from time to time,

 Haunting my mind, Torment of another kind.

Alone in a house so dark, the wind howling,

I am peeking out a window into the dark of night.

In the distance, he stands, a shadowy figure dressed up in black,

His clothes move with the wind, silent as he knows I am there,

I am alone and he knows of my fear.

There are times when I’m walking through the streets at night,

No cars, people, as if I’m the only one in this world.

 Again, it is windy, dark, and always this horrible fear,

I am followed, from a distance,  but I know something is out there,

No body, no face, somewhere, always there.

My dreams are not real but now each night I peek out of the window,

Waiting for him, this dark, shadowy figure.

 If I keep searching then will he appear, I find myself walking in the dark

Night streets wondering if he follows, imagining him out there, somewhere.

            Keith Garrett

                                                                      NEAR THE CREE

For Generations it’s been said that if you come down here you can hear her voice

Moaning in agony within the wind,

What happened to her is a tale that’s a mystery as it is told over and over

Through the years.

Some say they have seen her ghostly presence, she haunts the creek

Where she was possibly murdered,

Legend tells that many who have been down here to find her,

To hear her agonizing voice. have never been seen or heard from again.

Near the creek, there’s a haunting fog that lives, something or someone visits there,

A presence, not at peace,

It lures those who wander away into the darkness.

Don’t listen for the sound that waits, do not seek out this ghostly death,

Don’t go near the creek!

Keith Garrett

, 

                                                                  THEY BRING FEAR

 A cold, October night, wind rushing through the trees,

Creeks and sounds wake me in the darkness..

I think to myself, can you hear it, a sinister and evil little laugh.

As if it were far off in the distance.

Am I imagining things, I get up and take a look around,

Again, a heartstopping sound.

Through the window, the moonlight shines,

I can see it, the shadow of a creature.

Maybe just a foot or so tall,

It can’t be real, only in my mind as it vanishes again.

There it is, staring at me with those horrible eyes,

Running down the hall, out the door with a horrible little laugh.

Some kind of miniature, little elf,

I am trapped, looking out the window in the dark, cold, night.

They’re everywhere, more of them are out there,

Where they come from I do not know, they bring fear.

Night after night they gather,  no place to run,

Just a place to hide.

They are by sight, horrible to the mind,

What they want is not known, what I know is that they bring fear.

Keith Garrett