They will not forget that bright sunny day,
Those two friends who went on a wild joyride
Into a remote wood not far away,
Down a path they were told demons reside.
Yes, those friends went out on a wild joyride
And parked their junky car when they arrived—
The end of the path where demons reside.
A place, it’s been told, no one has survived.
Parking their junky car when they arrived,
They got right out and were given a fright.
This was a place where no one had survived.
What they saw was an awful, grotesque sight!
The friends got out and were given a fright,
A raccoon—teeth bared—on its back and splayed.
What an awful, horrible, grotesque sight,
Its blood and entrails spilled out on display.
That raccoon’s teeth bared—on its back and splayed—
Caused both of those teens to start and then jump.
All its blood and entrails spilled on display
The teens fell onto their car with a loud thump.
Yes, both of those teens did start and then jump
And, before running toward an old white house,
The teens fell onto their car with a loud thump;
But, from there, they were quiet as a mouse.
Following running toward the old white house,
The teen friends dared to go on up inside.
They, while in there, were quiet as a mouse
Investigating a cool place to hide.
The teens, having dared to go on up inside,
Noticed that people had up and just left—
Leaving them a cool place to come and hide—
Leaving stuff and, since then, there’s been no theft.
Noticing that folks had got up and left—
Swatters on the wall, dishes in the sink—
All of their stuff there, there had been no theft.
It caused them to stop, pause, and then to think.
Pictures on the wall, cups in the sink—
They could not even hear the gentlest sound.
As they stopped, paused, and started to think
Of why people left; why there’s no one around.
They did not even hear that gentlest sound
That was humming like wind above their heads
Thinking on why people left—not around;
They even left silky sheets on their beds.
There was buzzing like wind above their heads;
Which, at that moment, caught their attention.
No longer concerned with “no one around”
Their fear grew to a whole new dimension.
For, yes, the buzzing caught their attention
And they saw that the ceiling was moving
Their fear rose to a deeper dimension
That yellowjackets would hear them grooving.
Yes, they saw that the ceiling was moving
As they slowly started to back on out.
Hoping those wasps didn’t hear them grooving.
Or they’d be the next ones dead without doubt.
Thus, they successfully backed right on out.
No, they won’t forget that bright, sunny day,
They could’ve been the next ones dead, no doubt,
In a remote wood so not far away.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Online) - Published: January 16th, 2025 09:32
- Comment from author about the poem: Form: Pantoum; Meter: Pentameter. A true story.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Online)
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