Below, the dad, his son, and his boy’s son,
all three among the dead—one with a gun—
and all was dark, and filled with baby’s cries,
and rage, and fear, and blindness of the eyes;
and up above, the friends, searching for rope,
scurried and dashed about, hoping for hope.
The dogs, they barked—they barked and would not cease—
chaos building to some awful release—
and then a bang, a flash—did he still shout?—
the boy still cried!—What was this all about?
A voice, the son, the father of the boy,
rising from earth, it triumphing in joy:
“That ghoulish thing, it lies within its grave.
Now find some means to lift us from this cave.”
They looked below, he stood within dim light,
and there in elbow crook—O blessed sight!—
the infant boy, the baby in his arm,
its little lungs still shouting in alarm.
From out cruel night they’d strived unto new day,
and blessing God, they fell on knees to pray.
Monster Poems:
Vampire’s Remorse
Werewolf’s End
Journey of the Zombie
Monster’s Name
Ghost’s Memories
Hyde’s Justice
Witches’ Desire
Gorgon’s Veil
Patience of the Skeleton
Necromancer’s Song
Wendigo’s Feast
Gargoyle’s Repentance
Banshee’s Wail
Lust of the Mummy
Jack’s Trick
Ghoul’s Curse
Tale Told 
Just perfect!
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