Dark Poetry
Poetry by Fadrian Bartley
Panic Room
By Fadrian Bartley


Malicious entity
out of the doom,
Succumb to the silence of Laura's room.

Shadows move in the silent drift
decided to gave her baby a lift
From inside the crib her baby screams
but it was only Laura's dream.

It wasn't real
but something wrong from the way it feels,
Laura's thought it was in her head
but mental disturbances need a bed.

And it is alive,
the dark has arrived,
To create ruin
and own a place in Laura's room.

Such darkness beset a baby girl
the unborn seek a body to this world,
Laura watched her child fell asleep
but to left her alone gives her the creeps.

She knew the house has a strange horror
but it is the child that evil follows
With taurine blood which they claimed is of Christ,
So the devils child would be born from its heist.

But the night hums with the baby's cry
as the dark seem to love her pretty eyes,
But left alone from her mother's care,
and the hands of death hums the rocking chair.
To read other short stories,
click one of the titles below.
About Fadrian Bartley

Fadrian Bartley lives in Kingston
Jamaica and is a customer
service representative.  His work
appeared in few online web
magazines included, http://
www.aphelion-webzine.com/
poetry/2020/05/Annabelle.html
https://drunkenpenwriting.com/
2020/09/03/let-the-night-decide
https://ramingoblog.wordpress
.com/2020/09/24/the-ramingos-
porch-legacy-a-poem-by-fadrian-
bartley  Fadrian is a fictional
writer in poetry, his favorite
genre is dark horror story
poems, and wished to emulate
Edgar Allan Poe, who has
inspired the work of his hands.
He can be reach at:
https://www.instagram.com/
artexerexes https://m.facebook.
com/profile.php
Winchester - The Deadly Inheritance
                                By Fadrian Bartley


Malignant energy
took direction to a lonely house
of knocks.

The widow has compelled
to open the door from the disturb banging,
entered a presence of no form or breath
nor flesh to shape itself into visibility.

Who's there?
without an answer she pulls
the wooden door slowly and stare.

at nothing but the quietness of an empty reflection,
except a strange wind enter swiftly
and brushed against her skirt.

And the heavy door
swing from her hand,
by the forces of malicious entity
invaded never to leave.

Mannequins wrapped
with stretch curtains
in silky white shifted behind
sight.

Imagination of twisted reality
placed her momentum into a
trance of hollow atmosphere.

and the unsettled matter became
the unrest of the use to be old patriarch,
who refuses to leave estate at peace.



The pervasive blackness reinvents
itself into a force of persistent darkness,
and the marble wall decay
from the touch of night.

in a frightened state of reality
she watched the lovely portrait
diffuses like burn papers.

And the shadowy reflection
which ate away the crusted
wall,
split into pieces of butterflies.

created a diabolical entry upon
her-self,
and became a dwelling
place of rigo mortise.
                             By Fadrian Bartley


He wore a veil
over his rare reflection,
Behind it lies a psychological
Expression of innocence,
And eyes of twist errors need
to straighten out.

He doesn't play with age of his own
And his lips are sealed to cruel things,
His eyes has no slumber in the dead hours of the night,
and mom would listen behind the door
With those of whom he spoke,

His whisper frightened her unbelief,
And their presence shift balance
When they are disturbed
From the turning sound of the open door.

Rebecca embraced her own suspicion
When still she looked upon
His innocent face,
With a string of marmoset toy
And hanging beads.

You want to play with us mommy?
The reflection of his strange smile that increases her pounding heart,
When she saw no one around except Kevin,
who sat in the silence of an empty space,
Come to bed the hours are late!

But when she held his tiny hand
The door slammed from behind,
And leave a massive crack above the door post,
with the sounds of little children drifting into distant echoes,
The reflection around her change reflectively,
And still Kevin say not a word.
For poems by John Grey and
Stanley Wilkin,
click here

For poems by Fadrian Bartley,
click here