Rhymes to wet the bed by. - Page 3
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  1. #21
    Join Date
    Jan 2003
    USA. Mt. Carroll, Ill.
    Blog Entries


    Little brother was a bother
    I was so glad when he went to camp
    I called him, "Super-Soaker"
    Every morning the bed was much more than damp

    He was a hero waiting to be called
    When the cabin caught fire that fateful night
    The children screamed and balled
    "Super-Soaker" stayed in bed and floated out alright
    The rest were appalled and singed
    Brother didn't have one burn
    The Preacher was said to have cringed
    "Urine" the hands of angels, we must learn!

    "My Insanity is well-respected, until they wiggle free and become a stringer for a tabloid"

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  3. #22
    Join Date
    Aug 2002


    The fog laid heavy
    upon that fateful night
    not a creature was stirring
    things weren't quite right

    The bog started stirring
    with some type of a noise
    then out from the bog
    a creature became poised

    Poised for an attack
    on victims that came near
    unsuspecting helpless creatures
    that did not know fear

    Saliva came drooling
    down around it's wide mouth
    it was mealtime for the creature
    and there was no doubt

    That what ever drew closer
    soon would be his
    so he laid waiting
    not making a sound,not even a hiss

    A frog sat closely
    looking for flies
    little did he suspect
    or even realize

    That he was the next meal
    for the creature from the bog
    who waited to ambush
    that poor little frog

    The creature's senses
    were all but too keen
    the creature was hungry
    and its body too lean

    The thought of no meal
    was too much to bear
    if not the frog,a mouse
    or even a hare

    Its eyes transfixed
    upon the little frog
    that wanted to feed itself
    while sitting on a log

    But all of a sudden
    like a bat out of Hell
    came the slithery creature
    who had waited so well

    The frog tried to jump
    buy was caught in mid flight
    the only thought it had
    was it was about to die

    Coils of muscles
    surrounded its throat
    the poor frog uttered no sound
    not even a croak

    It gasped for its last breath
    as its body was crushed
    Making one last attempt for freedom
    in the mud and the dust

    But Death shows no kindness
    pointing with its boney hand
    its survival of the fittest
    in this harsh land

    So the slithery creature
    had a frog he could feed
    to satisfy its hunger
    which was one of his needs

    Upon injesting the meal
    which took some lenghth of time
    while enjoying the frog
    something came from behind

    He didn't bother to notice
    that something drew near
    something that much larger than he
    that should have installed some sort of fear

    A giant paw came crashing
    upon the creature's skull
    not given it a chance
    to see what was above

    Claws came ripping
    on its scalely skin
    this would spell death for the creature
    and soon put an end

    To the slithery thing
    that came from the bog
    on that fateful night
    when laid like a blanket
    was the thick fog

    rod spain

  4. #23



    black and blue, All alone
    No place to go, cold as stone.
    things will creep, things will crawl
    All alone in this midnight drawl.

    Sreams will shatter silence,
    In this tomb-like abode.
    Crying tears of blood, eyes gone glassy,
    these things never will become quite clear.

    Moments and times like these
    make you wince,
    things like this
    Are worse than a vampires blood-lust kiss
    These things, short but sweet, are unforgetable
    Deep and dark, memories burned into my mind.

    ~Silver Shadow

    I Hardly Belive In Ghost Stories Anymore...

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  6. #24
    Join Date
    Aug 2002


    The time is close
    The time draws near

    When the fall winds blow
    and comes the smell of fear

    When witches on brooms fly through the night
    to give the trick or treaters a little more of a fright

    Where bare trees's limbs bend into scary shapes
    giving the unsuspecting victim little time to escape

    From the groans and the howls on this creepy eve
    the evening we all call...Halloween

    Ghost and goblins are always about
    lifting their voices in a jublient shout

    So down the streets we go sreaming with a howlish glee
    On the night of all nights,the night of Halloween

    Houses decorated for the ultimate scare
    in anticapation of those who would come there

    Who dare to knock upon their door
    in hopes to get some candy or maybe alot more

    As the costumed children look about with eyes that are keen
    on this wicked,errie night,the one we call Halloween

    For those who are at party,raise a glass and make a toast
    to your favorite vampire,or monster,or your favorite ghost

    The night comes but only once a year
    let us make merry with the undead that are near

    This night is a memorable one for those who have seen
    the wonderous,mystical sensation of Halloween

    rod spain

  7. #25
    Join Date
    Oct 2003
    United Kingdom.


    in the mists of my thoughts
    my thoughts in the night
    i see demons crawling
    in the darkened light

    i dream as i sleep
    they`re calling my name
    they chatter and taunt
    as they play there evil game

    there screams and crys
    crash thought my head
    as i lie here silent
    silent in my bed

    there evil games are twisted
    i want to get out
    they scratch at my skin
    as i scream and shout

    as i break free
    there is a echo of pain
    as they stop there twisted
    and silly little game

    im free and awake
    away from the pain
    but as i sit silent
    it starts all over again


  8. #26
    Join Date
    Aug 2002


    Good one Vampy!

    rod spain

  9. #27
    Join Date
    Aug 2002

    Default I've got to resurrect this thread!!!!

    As I look at all the things from the past I realized that this was one of my favorites....So I hope to get others interested!

    A Cry In The Night

    The wind laid still upon that hill
    where death and destruction were abundant
    where shreiks and yells like they came out of Hell
    but then had stopped all of a sudden

    Mist turned to fog around the stones and logs
    as the air became quite heavy
    grave markers knocked down and rested on the ground
    but the only one standing was one marked ....Mary

    No last name inscribed of the one who had died
    just one word that said Mary
    flowers never appeared and you'd think that was weird
    for the land looked not so scary

    Not until one night when the full moon was bright
    that sent shadows far and wide
    something from the grave moved as the earth gave way
    to unleash an unholy cry

    So terrible a shriek and its pitch so high yet deep
    that the ground shook from where it was buried
    the earth split apart on that night's eerie dark
    at the place that was marked....Mary

    First a hand first sprang up and then her shirt's cuff
    then the rest of the boney arm
    then the face and the neck then soon the rotted breast
    of what use to be....Mary

    Her lips had peeled and hardened over the years
    and her teeth had fallen and rotted
    no blood laid near for her veins had disaapeared
    all of her fluids were dried up or clotted

    With no eyes to see her expression just seemed
    to be one of hate and denial
    because before she was buried she had conceived
    and had carried one little unborn child

    She raised her fist and at the moon she hissed
    with rage and all her fury
    then the morning sun broke in putting an end
    to the ravings of...Mary

    So back to the grave she stayed for many a day
    until the darkness was just right
    then Mary will come before the night time is done
    to give her cry in the night
    rod spain

  10. #28
    Join Date
    Aug 2002
    Warrenton Missouri


    Great one Rod. Man, I haven't read these in a few years.
    The cold winter air lets me know I'm still alive. I feel it as I breath in and see it as it leaves me. It's the point in-between I'm not sure about.....

    Putrids Crypt, web blog Updated 04/28/07
    web sites,

  11. Default

    Tyler was just ten
    as he headed for the den.
    He turned on the tv
    to the movie about a vampire named Ben.

    Tyler had his popcorn and candy
    along with soda that tasted like brandy.
    The movie was just beginning and
    Tyler was feeling just dandy.

    Tyler undressed down to his underwear
    and sat in his dad's easy chair.
    As the movie progressed,
    Tyler wished his dad was there.

    For two hours, Tyler watched in fear
    as Ben drank blood and a girl's screamed "oh dear"
    with all this blood and death, Tyler closed his eyes
    and covered his ears.

    "ENOUGH", Tyler said
    and ran to his bed
    and pulled the covers over his head.

    Tyler's heart was pounding
    as millions of ghosts and demons came abounding
    the wind was sounding.

    "No way
    to do so is ..."Tyler began to say
    As his mind slipped away

    Soon, it was brand new day
    and Tyler had a found a way
    to wake up and be ok.

    Tyler wanted to kick himself in the head
    because he had really really wet the bed!
    Sheets and mattress totally soaked
    and then Tyler was filled with dread.

    The doorbell rang
    and he heard his mom' vioce sang
    "sure Ryan and John, go up to Tyler's room"
    Tyler knew his life was over..with a bang!

    All Tyler could do was scream

    The ghosts and demons all smiled in delight
    at poor Tyler's embarrassing plight!

  12. #30
    Join Date
    Aug 2004

    Wink "Toyz," "Bayou Cemetery" and "Shivering"

    by E. M. Riddle

    "In a dusty corner of the room a light glows from the crack in the toybox lid:
    Something quickens inside the wooden womb."

    Bayou Cemetery
    by E. M. Riddle

    Between the folds
    of dusk and dawn
    there waits in empathy,
    a bayou draped
    in clinging moss;
    unwanted destiny.

    Beside the moon
    there floats above
    the bayou garden grave,
    a trembling wisp
    of wing and claw;
    devoted nighttime slave.

    by E. M. Riddle

    There's something in the crying of hounds
    Before the dawn's gray plight
    That speaks to me of darker deeds
    Done before first yawn of light.
    It gives me pause and quickened heart
    To wake within confines
    Of morning's bereavement,
    the Last of bleak and frantic
    Barks and whines.

    I'll not stare out the window to
    Assess accusing tones,
    But press my hands against my ears;
    No screams, no rattled bones.
    Relief will come with sun sublime,
    With warmth and burnished light.

    But until then the hounds will howl,
    And I shall hide from sight.

    ----Ella M. Riddle
    Come to the dark side. We've got cookies!

    MySpace Profile :: Ghost in the Lens :: The Corridors :: Autumn Whispers to Me :: The Corridors

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