Haunted House

Moaning, groaning, gnarled vines,

Crawling up the haunted house.

Craggy trees and whisp’ring pines,

Burning up from lightning douse.

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Perched upon a windswept bluff,

It towers over raging seas.

Its walls and doors are withered tough,

Surviving here for centuries.

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Music spills from deep within

And rolls with stormy waves.

But oceans hush the soulful hymn

‘Til not a sound is saved.

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The halls are filled with roaming ghosts

Who dance into the night.

They sing their tales unto their host

By darkened candlelight.

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Madness! Hark! The organ roars,

And spinning past they go!

Guided by a wicked chorus,

They tear the floor below.

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Upon the keys plays the lord,

A phantom spawn supreme.

Beside him hangs his bloodied sword,

With which he shakes and screams:

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“ Go forth, my children, and claim the life

Of those who yearned your grave.

Your father, mother, and your wife,

Their souls we will enslave!”

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With grieving wails they must comply,

These limbo ghosts from hell.

For long ago, before they died,

They gave their souls to sell.

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Like waters white they flow through port

To cascade over cliff and rock.

As wolves, their spirits quickly sort,

To pounce upon the human flock.

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And hunt they do, all through the eve,

With treachery in plan.

Each wicked act that they conceive

Is wrought upon the living Man.

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From in the house come the yells

Of captives drawn in chains.

The organ music dark compels

A poison in their veins.

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House of specters, sworn to evil,

Its calls will be obeyed.

But nighttime’s power cannot rival

The strength of coming Day.

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Dawn will shrink the pulsing walls

And end this savage game.

Although the Reaper made his calls,

His deaths shall be disclaimed.

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Blame to Nature is assigned

For deaths along the rocky coast.

Man forever has been blind,

To the malice of the House’s ghosts.