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Stingy Jack



Good Old Jack,

walks in the twilight between our world and what you would

call the other.

Into the out of, on paths that only he can see

with Fool’s Fire held in a hand-carved gourd to light his way.

A Ne’er-do-well if ever there was.

Cursed to wander the earth.

Never to know heaven or hell.

You may see his spook light bob in a graveyard or two as you pass,

especially on All Hallows Eve and on through to all Souls Day.

Wise men say, Old Jack’s looking for a way into heaven or hell

on such nights as these when the veil is thin.

If you see him, it’s best to keep on walking.

He has anger in him, a deep abiding bitterness swells.

like the ebb and flow of time that has trapped him.

He will have no hesitation to collect your soul should

you cross his path.

So beware or you may find yourself dead or a mindless


by Philip Wardlow

Life in Death or is it Death in Life


Death appreciates life , just as life appreciates death.

Both are impartial to the other.

A cold touch caresses the

beauty which flits to and fro

with seemingly

chaotic intention.

How are we to interpret the horrors of this vitality

when we ourselves are trapped in a purgatory

of our own design?

Perhaps a small light

shall lead the way for each of us

in our final hours as we lay

in our deep dark


By Philip Wardlow

Its Halloween Haikus!



Blade of souls passes,
from old to young hands gladly
to cut future fates.


A friend to shadows.
Tracks of misfortune follow
feline on the prowl.


I see you creeping,
Big eyes, sharp teeth, wicked smile
Waiting for a hug

Witch Hunt




Sister,  sister, you’re dead now. 
known as only ashes buried deep in a cold shallow
grave at the top of a lonely hill…
I saw you burn hotter than the sun, tied to a stake
worse than a dog was ever done.
Sister,  your shrieks still fill my ears from
that day, as they continued to pile on the wood to your funeral pyre.
I saw them laugh as the flames rose ever higher and higher.
I could only salt the earth with my tears for I was far too young.
Far too young  to save  a lighted soul such as yours being wronged.
My own darkened that day,
blacker than a shipbuilder’s pitch.
A witch you never were, but now
a witch I have become,
and tonight I hunt.
Hunt for the many ones,
and oh they will surely see a witch
tonight of the like they
have never seen.


By Philip Wardlow 2016

My Killer Girlfriend




I knew the moment I spied you

that the devil lived behind those blues.

How long ago did you trap him, for

I see he’s itching to play.

It’s clear from our encounter,

your a girl who  can handle her boomstick

when it goes off with a kick.

Your grip on the gun is tight but loose as

silver bullets fill it, along with a gleam.

You smile that smile that I could die for as the

full moon rises, and

the day descends to glorious night.

My hand takes yours as we roam

the dank castle far beneath in the catacombs.

I’ll take the hammer,  you take the stake

as we take out a vampire or two on our first date.

When other monster’s wish to interlude upon

our first kiss your casual air and

sadistic flair with an axe

cannot be denied as the crimson droplets fly

in the midnight air….Oh, I think I’m in love!

Let’s not dawdle, let’s not hesitate in our fate.

For we have a rendezvous, me and you, and it involves

Frankenstein and the Wolfman’s  heads

on a plate.


by Philip Wardlow

Hellhounds – A Dark Poem near Halloween Time


Hellhounds –

Known by many names,

Gwyllgi, the Dog of Darkness,

Black Schuck,  the Dog of Doom,

Dip, the little black hairy one who likes

to drink blood.

All hellhounds, demon dogs, omens of death

cast from the same malformed

misbegotten blackened molds.

An acrid, odorous smell precedes them,

brimstone wafts in their wake as they stalk

lost souls in the great hunt.

Paw prints burned into cold dead stone

give away their passage.

Eyes yellow of  burnished  bright gold.

or eyes of red, glowing like hot coals

Eyes that seek and search.

Be you the one?


If so ,they shall drag you down and through

Hell’s doors where in your

new home you shall dwell


By Philip Wardlow

The Dark – Halloween Poem

The Dark –IntheDark

I’m in the dark.

I look at it, as it looks at me.

Silently it sits.

The minutes  draw out to what seems hours.

I move left, it moves to follow.

So I stop. It stops.

The sound of heavy breathing, like the bellows of a fire

emit from its mouth. My heart speeds up.

It seems to be waiting for something. But what?

I raise my hand as if to wave. It waves backs.

Oh you fool,  it’s just your reflection in the mirror.

Calm your breath, its your own lungs you hear

expelling in your ears, your own movements which

track from across the room distilled from the dim

photons which bounce back to your misguided


“You idiot” I tell myself out aloud.

“Yes, you are” it answers back.

by Philip Wardlow

Killer Pumpkins – Poem #13

Killer Pumpkinskiller-pumpkinWeapons

Ba dump…ba dump…ba ba dump.



They roll.

They stroll

down the streets;

orange and angry.

Why do they roll?

Why are they not in bed,

with green leaves as blankets

To cover their orange ripply heads.

I suppose they’re pissed off

for being left behind

in the patch.

What the fuck was wrong

with them, they ask.

It’s Halloween and they’ve

waited long enough.

Knives in hand with

grins carved in,

ready to show

the little tricker-treat bastards

a real killer


So they roll

and they stroll

down the street.

Ba dump.



Halloween Shorts (Haikus)


The Dark needs my Soul
For it is feeding time now,
it’s always hungry.



I think it sees you,
I am sorry that is so
He kills very slow


Think driven by the wind?
A lonely swing in the dark.
When alive, her friend.


by Philip Wardlow 2016

Evil Eyeball – 30 day Halloween Poem Challenge – Poem A Day Poem#10

Ain't no rest for the wicked - Philip Wardlow


I see you evil eyeball in the dark,

You twitch , roll, spin and watch

Please stop your spinning to and fro

Or else, Squish! you go between bare toes.

By Philip Wardlow

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