Haunted House

It is Halloween night and the sky is black,
A few mystical clouds show the moon and pull back,
Off the trail my feet did guide,
To a strange, old house which lie dormant on the side,
3 Daystaine Street, off Spring Daisy Lane
Strangly compelling, yet reeking with distain,
I found myself wandering into the darkened mist,
The street bare and hollow and my torch tight in my fist,
One foot in front of the other, like a zombie I strode,
Toward the creepy, old house sitting barron by the road,
I knew to turn back, but my feet kept astride,
My body took over, nowhere to run, and not wanting to hide,
I crept in the door, slowly but surely,
I wound up in the foyer, old, dusty and curly,
Curiosity took hold and I began to wander,
Through the old, stunning structure, I began to ponder,
Karma took hold and the gust wisped past,
In front of me, then behind me, unseeable and so fast,
The bellows were high and hollow and rare,
Like a pent up, old polterguiest, wailing in despair,
The voice radiated throughout in a startling fashion,
Expressing years of pent up silence, ghostly needs and spirit's passion,
The clock chimed twelve times symbolic in night,
And the house took new form in the delight of midnight fright,
Scared to death I may be, loaded with refrain,
There I stood planted, curiously addicted to the delightful wailing pain,
When another ghostly sound whipped past me, behind me to tease,
The shock nearly stunned me; brought me right to my knees.
Another ghostly wail filled the space, this time in pairs,
Shaking I clutched my torch and made my way toward the stairs,
The stairs were wide, tall, and spiralled, olden style as could be,
I must admit walking up them was too scary, even for me.
With a change of heart, I made my way through the hall,
I could've sworn I heard music, like that of a ball,
Mr. Toastly's wedding was charming indeed,
With all the fine trimmings spread out; a fine feed,
It was October 1863, and the smell of autumn leaves filled the air,
The Mrs was ravishing; cream white complextion, like an angel's white hair,
The guest's toasted fine crystal to the young couple with with glee,
They stood up to face their fans; so stunning like royalty.
All the guests were laughing in admiration, excitement filled the air,
Mr Toastly, the socialite's son, was finally marrying; his wife so fair,
All imagining their new lives bringing, riches, children, and everything good,
Then three soldiers marched in, at the door's entrance they stood.
One yelled "Fire!" in vain the soldiers let go causing bloody shed,
Before Emerald Toastly's eyes, his Mrs was dead. 
Screams of pain, shock and agony, he knew he'd cry in his sleep,
For this fair, young woman, his love ran very, very deep.
So deep his sorrows would reach, for only a minute he felt,
The shot in the back, his reaching arm was all he felt.
To the floor many fell, about ten dead, the rest for cover,
Then the soldiers left easily, to burn the place down like a hover.
Some noise from outside, a loud voice did call,
"No time for this terror, up north we must haul!"
And the time did pass and the room got dark,
Only a ghost holding a candlestick, was seen as a mark.
Mr. Toastly flew by, laughing and cackling with glee,
Then some others flew around the air intermittently.
"Boo!", "Rah!", "Awwww!" they jumped out, the chains they did rattle,
Fear rose in my body as the door slammed shut and locked like I was cattle.
Now the show began, ghosts whisping back and forth from the ether,
Mrs. Toastly floated by, seeming bouncy and eager.
Edgar Browne tipped his top hat, his ghastly face a pale delight,
and everybody joined hands, no longer such a fright.
In a circle they joined twirling around in the air laughing gayly to my surprise,
Skipping afloat dancing playfully, disappearing with the sunrise.
Only a shadow of a voice was left, to sleep Halloween's night lies.

Author's Note

I want my readers to have fun while reading this. Please tell me what you think.

Reviews

[StarNinja]

Forget poetry. You should be a Horror writer! Being a non-poet, I simply can't offer any kind of substantial critique on this piece. I guess the rhyming was cool. Keep up the good work!

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Fun, creepy fantasy, a most warming start to my review day, well done, great read.