[Roderick Usher]

This is one of my twisted children's poems. It was down in the horror fiction post, but what the hell - I'm a whore.

Enjoy.

The Pond
(c) 2006 S.K.

Back behind my grandma’s house, where the wild grass grows,
There lies a pond, all inky black, which chills me to my bones.
It bubbles and it gurgles but I cannot tell you why
And when I gaze upon the pond time goes whizzing by.

One day I stared into that tarn until the sun had set
And that’s when something happened that I’m sure I’ll not forget.
The buzzing of the dragonflies and croaking of the frogs
Ended all at once as silence fell across the bog.

Then a ripple shimmered on the surface of the pond
And a rotten hand, ghostly white, reached up from beyond.
It beckoned me into the depths, and helpless, I obeyed
As water poured into my lungs and all my flesh decayed.

Through the murky bracken I could see my captor’s face
And screaming peels of bubbles, fell into its dark embrace.
The one who pulled me under had a face that looked like mine
He smiled and slipped away and from the water he did climb.

Still lying on the bottom of that cold, black pond am I
While the ghost imposter takes my place at grandma’s side.
And if you should come wandering to my pond some summer’s eve
I’ll pull you down and take your place and leave you trapped like me.