Like something from a dream
I saw the boy
His soul amongst the stones
and rubble
In between the two brick walls
he lingered eagerly
watching from his safe foundations
waiting as gently I discovered
him there.

Like something from a nightmare
discovering his past
alone amongst a home
a house once his
fear upon his face
a scream, a wail and only me to tell.

Like someone from my childhood
I take his tiny hand
lead him from behind the safety
bring him into view.
Into his dead eyes I stare
deeply into his dreams and memories
Beneath the house he sleeps
beneath the house he lays.
No longer just a lonely boy
now a man at last.

Charlotte Scadeng (c) August 2007

At my desk, the screen alive

Waiting for instructions

Peering at my emails,

While he's planning my destruction.

 

My arms feel tired, legs feel heavy

My head begins to ache

A gurgling noise from deep within

And my body starts to shake.

 

Boss man sits, quite unaware

While slowly I am dying.

Behind my desk I pass away

Yet no body is crying!

 

The lights go out, the room turns cold

I stand to walk away.

My legs give way, my arm falls off

I suppose I have to stay.

 

My tummy rumbles, dinner time!

My boss looks rather yummy.

I move towards him, raise a smile

Dive in and fill my tummy.

 

A tasty treat quite well deserved

For my dying was his doing.

I was literally bored to death

And its too late to be suing.

 

I'm the walking dead, a zombie girl

And I still work 9-5

The job description didn't state

That you had to be alive!

 

Charlotte Scadeng © July 2007

"What the…?!"

I shot up quickly from my sleep. I was disorientated, like waking from a strange dream. Where was I? Slowly I drifted back into reality, noticing my surroundings, taking it all in.  It was dark and damp. The smell reminded me of gardening with my grandmother. The smell of the earth.  Mud, worms - the ground.  I was in the ground!

 ..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

I panicked, trying to sit up I bumped my head on something hard – it hurt.  My screams reverberated around me.  My thoughts were even louder inside my head. Why was I in the ground? Who had put me here? When did I die? Did someone try to kill me and hide my body? All sorts of scenarios ran through my mind.

I had to get out. I started to kick the lid of my coffin. My coffin? "I'm in a coffin".

It was easy! I sprang out like a jack in a box. I felt so strong. And angry. Rage filled me now. I couldn't think straight. I just wanted to kill someone. Anyone. Why had this happened to me?

I squinted, as I looked around to get my bearings; my eyes getting used to the light.  It was dusk.  I was in a graveyard. I recognised the graveyard. The church. "That's where I used to sing in the choir. And my grandparents are buried here. I'm sure of it".

 

All around me were people, filling the graveyard. Young and old, men and women. Some looked like they'd stepped out of a history book. Some looked like they'd just stepped out of a horror film. Or out of…the ground! They were dead. The walking dead!  Not only had I been almost murdered and buried alive but now I was in the middle of a graveyard surrounded by what seemed to be zombies. It couldn't be real. I had to be dreaming.

 

But I wasn't.

"Hang on!" I thought, recollecting the memories of movies I had seen, "if they're zombies then I need to get out of here. They eat the flesh of the living, don't they?"

I started to run forced on by this great red anger inside of my body. I felt able to combat a zombie even if they did catch up to me. But as I stepped forward my leg made a cracking sound and I fell to the ground. I couldn't get up. I mustered all my strength, which there was a lot of – and slowly rose to my feet. But it was too late. The zombies were upon me. Arms swinging out in front of them, eyes wide and insane, mouths watering for my flesh. The first one to get to me was a young woman. The side of her face was missing. Eaten by worms perhaps. She looked ravenous and I was dinner. I closed my eyes ready to take the pain but then…nothing! No pain, no teeth tearing at my flesh, my limbs were still attached. I was alive. They had walked straight past me.

Maybe my luck was in after all.

I watched as they marched on towards a large house. I felt relieved but still I was angry. I felt that the emotion was keeping me strong so I held on to it.

I slowly lifted myself up and started to wobble to my feet. Although I had the strength of an elephant I still felt slightly fragile – rickety, like I might lose an arm. It was probably due to being stuck inside a grave for so long. Dead still. How long was I in there, I wondered.

I got my bearings again. This was definitely the graveyard near my home. I knew the vicar and he lived nearby. If I could get to his house he could call someone.

I marched on. Slowly past the church, over graves – avoiding the open ones. What a strange night. There was a chill in the air and a dark atmosphere. The air smelt dank and musty. I was surrounded by silence. It felt like the end of the world.

I made my way down the path. My body moved slowly. It frustrated me. But at least I was alive. I felt the gravel crunch beneath my feet. Not far to go now. I was glad to be in familiar surroundings.

There was a big wooden gate up ahead. It was always locked at night. I remember as a child I used to climb over it and sit and tell horror stories with my friends. Mine were always the best.

I lifted myself up and hoisted my body over the gate, landing with a thud on the concrete the other side. But I wasn't hurt.

A shrill scream suddenly peirced the silence of the night. It sent shivers through my flesh. I hadn't really thought about where those zombies were going, I was just glad to be away from them. But now, hearing that terrible sound it struck me that they must have got into that big house. Those people, those poor people!!

I had to get help. Not only for myself but for the people in the village. If I recall, zombies don't sleep. They will keep on going until they have wiped out the whole village, spreading their disease and then move on to the next.

I dragged myself up the driveway to the Vicarage. I used to come to Summer fetes here. One year I danced on the lawn with my group of friends for the locals.

I knocked on the large wooden door. I don't know where my strength had come from but I blew a massive hole in it from the power of my fist!

No one answered.

I felt enraged. So I knocked again.

No answer.

I had to get in. If the vicar and his wife weren't home then I could at least use their phone. So I pushed down the door. It was effortless.

I vaguely remembered the layout of the downstairs. I was sure that straight ahead of me there should be a large sitting room where there should be a phone. I went through a door and into the room.

I couldn't believe my eyes. The vicar and his wife were home. They were sitting together on their comfy sofa huddled up in the light of the television. They had ignored my knock at the door. After all I'd been through tonight and they ignored me. Did they have any idea what was happening?!

I was livid. I couldn't speak. My mouth was watering like a rabid dog. I ran towards the vicar. I grabbed him with my strong arms. I wanted to ask him why. Why? I wanted to explain what had happened tonight. But I couldn't speak. Only grunts came out.

His wife was screaming, throwing things at me. How could they treat me like this? It was me. Little Mary. The choir girl, the bullied little girl who the vicar always listened to. He'd buried my grandfather. How could they do this?

I couldn't see. Only red. The vicar was still in my grip, only he didn't look like the vicar any more.

I felt weak and tired…and hungry.

I gripped his arm with my teeth and pulled. A lump of flesh came off. It tasted good. I took another bite and another. I was frenzied. My body felt right again, the red was subsiding. I didn't feel afraid or upset anymore.

I filled up on what I needed and left.

Where to now?

 

Charlotte Scadeng © 2007

Little lizard lounging
By the tree beside the pool.

Watching bugs and sometimes us
All trying to keep cool.

Little lizard leaping
when his dinner passes by.

A tasty treat of bluebottle
The juiciest of fly.

Little lizard running
When the bird bites at his tail.

I can't speak lizard language
But I'm sure I heard him wail.

Little lucky lizard
As the bird decides to leave.

It doesn't fancy dinner yet.
A lizardy reprieve.

Little lizard lounging
By my sun bed by the sea.

I'm watching as he's watching life
But is he watching me?

Charlotte Scadeng © May 2006

Old house
Upon the hill
A shroud of darkness looms
Steeped in mysterious past lives
And times

Cracked walls
Broken windows
Memories live inside
Step by step, unveiling itself
To me

Old house
Inside your walls
The musty darkness sits
A happy child, contented smile
Safe place


Charlotte Scadeng © June 2007

Another Navworks Challenge

If I looked like you, I'd wear that too

I'd bleach my hair, perhaps go bare

No jeans for me, just wild and free

I'd strut my booty, so soft and fruity

My bag in hand, along the sand

For all to see, that's what I'll be

A sexy lady, a real A gradey

The men will drool, it'll be so cool.

I'll make girls jealous, with utter zealous

You'll photograph me in the bath

Me down the street, It'll be so neat

 If I looked like you, I'd wear that too

But I sadly don't, so I probably won't.

                      Charlotte Scadeng © April 2007

I can't remember if I had posted this before. Its another Navworks challenge. Thank you Navworks for all these poems you have inspired me to create!!

I turned and ran,
what had I done?
The endless fields of swaying grass, my only escape from this hell.
Reaching out into the distance, so far, so far…

I ran, my feet no longer with me, tired from the strain of weight
The dark stark hill loomed up ahead. My goal, so far, so far…

I turned and saw
What I had done.
A big red moon, the endless nights, the silence broken only by rustling
Ahead just fields and grass and hills. So far, so far…

I stopped, my heart, the pressure building, pumping loudly in the night
The steep stark hill loomed up ahead. My home, so far, so far…

I turned and saw
What's done is done.
The endless nights of fear and anguish, my last resort, my smile.
Ahead just light, the end is near. My life, so far, so far…

I lay, the grass so dry and crunchy, a mouse my friend forever more
The hill ahead, the blackness gone. I rest, so far, so far…

Charlotte Scadeng © April 2007

From his spot beneath a spring time tree

Resting under a carousel

The old man closed his eyes for the final time

And died.

 

No childhood friends came to meet him,

Or lovers from his past

Alone he roamed his field of dreams

A parting smile at last.

 

His journey led him South

amidst the music

Old school Blues,

guitars and riffs

Created in the world of death.

 

A carnival of masks and mystery

Drag queen dancers

Rum and coke party nights

Entwined amongst the singers.

 

Turning every corner

Each step a never discovered world

A rickety table, chairs set for two

On a paving stone for one.

 

A meeting of minds

A remembrance of last regrets

Visions of what could have been

And what will be now.

 

From his spot beneath a spring time tree

Sunshine warms his face.

The old man travels to places unknown

And comes to life at last.

 

Charlotte Scadeng © June 2007

 

I am a voodoo nightmare ex

I've placed my hex

Upon his ex

 

With waxy dolls

And short sharp shocks

I've made her quiver in her socks.

 

Her late night phonecalls

Texts of love

My hoodoo spells from up above

 

They'll shrink her head,

They'll turn her tummy

Make her scream out loud for mummy.

 

That nightmare night text

Nightmare ex

Upon whom I have placed my hex.

 

Charlotte Scadeng © June 2007

 

Based on old feelings from years ago. he he!!

Drip

Drip

Drip

 

Made the sound of her brain as it flowed from the hole in her head.

She was dead.

 

And so was he

 

And so are they

 

And so am I.

 

Charlotte Scadeng © June 2007

 

A carousel of clouds.
Where horses ride the windy waves
Upon that bright and sparkly toy
Lies sleep and old man time.

Rest eradicates my thoughts
And dreams remain unopened
A sparkly night of crystal rain
No reason and no rhyme.

Exploring rooted jungle
Wooded stacks of days gone past
Umbrella visions, fears and woes
Lay rotting, filled with grime.

Remembering the happy smiles
Grandad and his dentures
Sandman's friend, a cold held hand
An expedition to unwind.

Written for todays challenge on Navworks

I ended up at an impromtu open mike night. Well, we were having drinks at a place that suddenly became an open mike for people. I strangely enough knew one of the guys who had come to play and then asked for a joke if they would mind childrens poetry.. they said they wouldn't. So, I popped home (not far) went back with a few select poems. I got there and a band was about to play. The man running it saw me and said "oh yes, charlotte, can you play? Can you pley with these guys"? Um!?! Scottish music?? so, I sat in the hotseat with m poems, the mike and everyhone in front of me. (a glass of red wine too) and said to a band member "will you play along to my reading or do I have to catch up with you?" and he said "Keep up with us". So basically I had to decide when to go in wiht a poem!!!!! And I did!!! I did my internet porn one. They were playing bagpipes and drums and I suddenly said "I do not..." and they calmed it and then it was my turn "get the horn" and then he played the drums SO fast that i had to keep up. And I DID!!! : ) all but the last line. But I squeezed it in there well. I did the last bit, paused for a loong time until the music stoped and said the final line. I got a massive applause!!!  it was such fun : )

 

 

"OUCH", You bastard,
that bloody well hurt
then out came my tooth
and a red crimson spurt.

"YOW", you idiot
that flippin well kills
Give me some gas
and some very strong pills.

"NO" laughs the dentist
his needle in my gum
I grab it fast, turn him around
and inject him in the bum!

Check the original poem out here:

www.myspace.com/seanreddan  

Clean Kathryn

Whispering winds tell me a story
Of love it is not, or of power or glory
It's the simplest of tales with an ending so sweet
Of a young girl called Kathryn, so clean and so neat.

The whispering winds used to mess up her clothes
They'd make her all wrinkly and tickle her nose
She'd sneeze and she'd sniffle, she'd cough and she'd cry
But the winds wouldn't care and she didn't know why.

Until one quiet night when the winds were quite still
A tiny young mouse appeared on her sill.
It said "come here clean Kathryn, a tale I must tell
Of old ghosts and of monsters and goblins called Nell".

She learnt of a spectre, the greatest of ghouls
Who didn't like children, but loved to haunt schools.
He'd whip up a frenzy of wind and of bluster
He'd blow with all of the might he could muster.

it wasn't because he was naughty or mad
or even because he was terribly bad.
He just didn't like how the children these days
Were dirt free and tidy, not like the old ways.

He much preferred messes, and rooms filled with paint
Of wonder and mystery, a hygienist he 'aint.
So the next time that Kathryn decided to preen
She'd think of that phantom who didn't like clean.

She'd roll in the dirt and she'd fall on the ground
In the garden with worms was where she could be found.
Mud pies, galoshes, no twinkly toes.
No clean face and fingers or pretty pink nose.

No, the whispering winds and their dusty filled stories
Had given back childhood and all of its glories.

Charlotte Scadeng © May 2007

Written for one of the challenges in http://www.myspace.com/poeticcorner

I am SO glad the internet wasn't around when I was younger. I was just browsing some sites (now I'M the crazy fan) of a certain actor I like and some of the comments I saw!!!

"call me [insert name of actor] we need to talk" and then putting her address on the website!

"[insert name] I love you. i can't live without you. I'm 15"

At 15 you really do think you're in love with those people. (I was in love with Jason Donovan! he he!!) and if there had been internet at that time maybe I would have emailed him and told him I needed to talk to him.

I am SO relieved.

Instead I wrote embarrasing love letters to boys at school. Boys I had to see every day. Boys who I told I loved them and thought about them every night and CRIED MYSELF TO SLEEP!. Oh the shame!!!