The Terror

He never came out in the daytime, though

He’d always come out at night,

I’d hear his feet, pass in the street

By the gaslamp’s feeble light,

He’d peer through the frosted window glass

And I swear that he always hissed,

Whenever I opened the trap, he’d gone

A-swirl in the yellow mist.

 

We huddled under the chimney piece,

We huddled under the stair,

Whenever his steps were echoing

From here to the you-know-where,

I tried to protect my Carolyn

Who would shut her eyes and ears,

He had the power, for over an hour

To bring Carolyn to tears.

 

He’d come when the frost brought icicles

He’d come when the wind would blow,

He’d come when I left her tricycle

Outside, and covered in snow,

And then when the ice on the window ledge

Began to go crack-crack-crack,

She often hid, right under the lid

Where the firewood lay in a stack.

 

And then when the door blew open, from

A gust in the wind out there,

We’d lie, with fears unspoken

As the creaking rose up the stair,

Then Carolyn shrieked, while I couldn’t speak

For hearing her cries and moans,

As terror spread, from under the bed

And chattered through teeth and bones.

 

I swore that he wore a big black hat

With a brim that covered his eyes,

Carolyn wrote that he wore a cloak

As part of his dread disguise,

But nobody would believe us, ‘til

We heard he was coming back,

His hobnailed boots on the cobblestones

Approached, a-click and a-clack.

 

They’d slow, and stop by the outer door

Our hearts in our mouths, alas,

And then his shadow would fall right there

He’d peer through the frosted glass,

The knocker had an echoing sound

As he knocked, went rat-tat-tat,

And mother leapt to the door in a bound,

‘Dear God! It’s Uncle Jack!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Author's Note

This is my 1,000th Poem, since I began to write poetry in 1966. So 1,000 poems has taken me 48 years.

Reviews

[Barbz]

I am loving his poetry......Depth and simplicity all rolled into one......my grandchildren , likewise , appreciated his poetry as they sat on my bed last night and asked for "just one more"......don't you love positive feedback from wide-eyed children......'n Hey, what about me!!4q

[Tate Morgan]

Wonderful the sound of it all put me in mind of the clickity clack of the railroad track. As I have become a accustomed to you being able to tap into the melodies of life So you have never failed to deliver. So well done. Congratulations on your 1000th poem. I think I hear the wind blowing through the eves and the footfalls at the door.

[Onyia-Ali, Kingsley Chu..]

This is really a narrative poem like most of your poems. I appreciated the tale. Well done sir.

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

I like this one. It does have a gothic feel. Nice work David.

[Tomás Ó C..]

There a roll to your writing that is so Robert Service. The mood, the scene setting, its all so cool!

[R Smith]

thank God it was just uncle Jack i was waiting for something far worse, many congrats for this 1000th poem a masterful feat and only 48 years David lol, sorry should not laugh cos i know there won't be a 1000 for me, i started in 1967 a year after you and think i'm at about 280, don't think i'll live long enough to reach your peak haha, well done a true master of your art :)

[Luximir]

As always your poetry is simply amazing. The atmosphere and visual aspects were very awesome :) Thank you for sharing this ;)

[emmajoy]

' He’d come when the frost brought icicles .. He’d come when the wind would blow, .. He’d come when I left her tricycle .. Outside, and covered in snow, '

Never thought of 'icicle' and 'tricycle' making friends but makes sense.. clever you. Yet another brilliant poem, full of atmosphere and fun, creepiness and superb metre.

Congrats on the 1,000th work of art, Mr. Paget! Forty-eight years fly by when you really try.!

[MomzillaNC]

Uncle Jack! Okay! I'd say he deserves a good smack! :D

Congratulations on you thousandth poem! Quite an achievement!