April is National Poetry month, and well I’m a bit late to the party, but I’d still like a drink. Below are a few of my favorite poems from my Diabla Poetry collection. This collection is a companion to The Demon Dealer. These are horror poems, no hearts and flowers here. Well only if the hearts are for gnawing and the flowers stomping. Enjoy.

Heather

She’s tiny

a twinkle of a thing

the smallest of her breed

 

walking down the hallway

in her home

wrapped up in pretty pink robe

with bows

and soft purry kittens splattered all over

her pretty pink pajamas

 

She looks not comical

not even whimsical

or magical

just a teeny little girl

probably walking to her mama

 

Her mama sleeps

wrapped up like a mummy

against the cold night

she thinks only lollypops and love

for her dinky girl

 

 

This little girl

this hearts and flowers

looking girl

doesn’t think lollypops and love

when she thinks of mama

or daddy

or baby brother

she thinks nothing

and she keeps that secret

 

Puny little thing

More bathrobe than child

stands watching her mama sleep

watching her mama dream big dreams

and the tiny little human thinks

big thoughts

like the scissors in her school pencil box

she could cut off all her mama’s hair

cut it to the scalp with those pencil box scissors.

 

she could

do more things with that pencil box

maybe put that pencil in her father’s ear

quick and hard

it might wake her daddy up

she didn’t care

 

Her mama eyes open

she whispers to her half-pint leprechaun

of a daughter

that she loves her

that she adores her

that she was just now dreaming of her

the sleepy mama grabs her girl

and pulls her into her bed

mistaking her intentions

for childhood sleep walking

or bad dreams

bad day

poor thing

mama love cures it all

 

The pocket sized girl

settles in with her mama

shoving all her big thoughts

deep into the pockets of her bathrobe

and keeps her secrets

 

Puppy Love

Everybody knew the

teenage years would be hard for her

How do you explain to a force such as her

That there will be rocking and rolling of

concepts she’s not used to

The mother was worried

 hands crossed and frown on her face

Her little girl was different

A different no one should mess with

a different that was best left sleeping.

The father grinned

the girl should go out

be out in the world and learn to be normal

 

The cage was opened

she was allowed out

like all teenage girls

movies and dances all on her own

things seemed fine

just dandy

no worries

then the boy

the boy in her most hated class

The boy who watched her every move

the boy who spent his nights

wondering what she was doing

That boy, kissed her lips

that kiss was tender

that kiss was sweet

that kiss made her stop

a bit and assimilate

time passed

she became giggles

she became cotton candy

The mother still frowned

The father brushed it off.

 

Then the boy stopped

that boy stopped kissing her

that boy stopped wondering what she was doing at night

that boy stopped and she woke up.

 

No more giggles

No more sweet

She was different again

Assimilation voided

 

The calls came one night

the boy was gone

didn’t come home from school

Had she seen him?

Did she know?

She nodded sadly at her mom and gave her father a shrug

Then went to her room

that was the night that acting became easy

she would pretend sad for days

classmates would pat her shoulders

She’d allow it

then at home she’d eat the dinners with a smile

do the homework without being told

lay in her bed at night when all were asleep

alone she could stop the acting

smile at herself and give the idea of the boy a smirk.

 

 

Pixie

A wonder she is

Such a slight thing

With eyes that spot sin

And a heart that enjoys

Giving pain

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