Midnight

Midnight

In the graveyard dark and gloomy,
stirs a wraith from days long past,
body rotting and eyes still rheumy,
it rises from the grave at last.

Dripping with the filth and slime,
these the bedclothes of the ages,
from its deathly sleep it climbs,
within its heart unsated rage.

So it drifts with halting paces
through the silent nightly town,
searching for the hated faces,
those who brought it crashing down.

Vengeance drives it on and forward,
moving now from house to shed,
scratching at the roughened hoarwood,
doors locked tight and all abed.

Sleepless lie the frightened townsfolk
hear the anguished sounds they dread
uttered by the one convoked
he who wants to see them dead.


Line count: 20
Word count: 117
Form: Trochaic tetrameter rhymed abab
For Horror Writing Contest, March 2023
Prompt: Just make it a scary poem.