Cries Come From The Hill (Tanka)

Cries come from the Hill

They’re coming to kill us all

Mystic Lindsey Graham

He doesn’t need any proof

He just reads his crystal ball


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


The Trance

Rain fell torrential and strong

Thunder clapped and lightning struck

Reminiscent of Stoker won’t be long

Unless God grants us a little luck


Lightning flashed ‘cross blackened sky

Through gothic windows cast shadows eerie

I hope and pray I do not die

In castle dark on this night so dreary


Surely my mind must be playing tricks

These things I see must not be real

A touch of flu, I must be sick

For if I’m wrong then my fate is sealed


As shutters bang in wind and rain

A winged creature I thought I saw

With eyes glowing red am I insane

Rush I must, the curtains draw


A bang, a scratch on windows glass

I hide my face in fear a dream

A few long seconds the sound did pass

Minutes though it surely seemed


Then silence befell the musty room

A nightmare dream it must have been

Escape this place, this horrid tomb

Uncovering my eyes I turned a grin


Lo’ I find I am not alone

In shock I stumbled and couldn’t speak

Fear on my face I must have shown

Evidenced by wrinkle of widows peak


Eerie white and dressed in black

This fiend of fiction now stood before

I must admit I was taken back

Turning to run for bedroom door


Faster than a blink he blocked my way

In fear I trembled where I stood

Not a sound or word did he say

Under his cloak and silken hood


Then he scoffed deep and dark

The room took on a ghastly chill

Deadly silence no cricket or bark

A scream did emanate cold and schrill


Frightened I fell on bended knee

His putrid breath upon my neck

The room went dark I could not see

On whole of my life did I reflect


Grasping tightly with claw-like fingers

Hoisting me like a childs toy

Growing intensity my terror lingers

My heart and soul he seeks destroy


In a moments notice warmth I feel

A peace then fire runs through my veins

The slightest pinch in fog concealed

Monsters fangs they cloud my brain


I feel and smell the blood-soaked cotton

A trickle down my trembling arm

My wound it reeks of flesh gone rotten

Life is held in mortal harm


Again a laugh born of Satan’s Hell

Rings as unreal in dreary dream

My will to live dissolved in his spell

Nothing exists but him it would seem


This oddest of feeling from head to toe

My body and soul no longer of this world

Allegiance to him now must I show

Though why or how my thoughts he unfurled


He spoke in a tongue unlike my own

Though strangely understood by chance

You’ll never escape, I’ve returned you home

To eternity lived under Dracula’s trance


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Tale Of The Jersey Devil – A Dark Poem

The wind it howled through dark of night

Father stammering in paralyzing fright

He hid me deep in closet bare

Eyes wide open through slats I stare


The growl it came on putrid breath

I feared the end a gruesome death

Father held tight as the door it rattled

Futile to fend an unnatural battle


Slowly the door it did part from it’s frame

Demon’s eye I see glowing red as a flame

Father held tight, just as tight as he could

But he knew in short order his strength fail it would


The beast it did shriek as father fell to the floor

Claws round his throat he threw father at the door

With a horrible thud bleeding and prone

Father lay silent and I cowered alone


I could see cloven feet moving this way and that

Flapping leathery wings as if clipped from a bat

It spit as it growled from between fang laden jaws

Destroying our cottage with yellow curled claws


It’s face was not human, nor of beast of the earth

Larger than a man in it’s height and it’s girth

The horns that did sprout from the top of his head

Certain in a moment I surely be dead


It clawed at the closet breaking slat after slat

‘Til the drool from it’s fangs fell inside pitter-pat

I curled in the corner as best that I could

Live another night I prayed to God that I would


The stink of the devil almost more than I could bare

As lice and maggots fell from his feathers and his hair

With one longing screech as spit ran down the wall

I closed my eyes and held my breath as the satan’s tail did fall


Then as fast as it came it turned and did run

Back into the pines from whence it did come

Leaving claw marks and stench behind in it’s wake

This night we were lucky for no life did it take


Battered and bloodied was my father its true

No worse was I for the terror gone through

This story’s been told, handed down through the ages

Written in books filling volumes of pages


Still there are those who refuse to believe

‘Til receive they a visit on one dark moonless eve

Jersey Devil of the pines unannounced makes his call

The season matters not winter, spring, summer or fall


The son of Mrs. Leeds, cursed long before birth

Banished to the forest amongst pine and marshy firth

Spawn of the Devil to live immortal life

Its best to guard your sons and daughters and your wife.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

This poem is based on the Jersey Devil, the longest lasting piece of lore in the state of New Jersey, originating in 1735. This website, WeirdNJ gives one rendering of what the Jersey Devil is supposed to look like along with a good bit of information about it’s origination and actual sightings of the devil.

I grew up in this area and lived there until about 12 years ago. It is an absolutely beautiful area along the southern coast of New Jersey, that is of course unless it is nighttime and you are lost in the Pine Barrens.

Hell’s Minion – A Dark Poem

Image Credit:

Image Credit:

A mist lay o’er the old town square,

As candles flicker in cottage eyes,

To venture out, no one may dare,

Emboldened fool will surely die.


In darkened night the moon lay black,

Unearthly pitch to ward off man,

Fear for those who’ve not come back,

Fell prey to Satan’s ghastly plan.


Yon forest breaths the caw of crows,

Hoot Owls cry echoes resound,

In what direction no one knows,

From high above the mossy ground.


What Hell bestowed on sky and earth,

In shrill and curdling scream,

Instilled by evils wretched birth,

Unfurled in nightmarish dream.


The butcher lay to weed us out,

His sickle bathed in blood and spoils,

Gullet cut, no voice to shout,

Easy prey…Nay! sweatless toil.


Demon cloaked in onyx murk,

Ne’er seen with mortal’s naked view,

O’ terror, we shan’t let caution shirk,

Vigilant we must all struggle through.


Pray to God the sun will rise,

Beseech the villain back to Hell,

Look upon Heaven to flay disguise,

Release from prison where we dwell.


Still sun will set and night will grow,

No closer to trapping the horrid beast,

In faces of strangers and kin we know,

Who next be the blood bathed gory feast.


A tap at the door…whom by God could it be,

Overwhelmed with the play of the mind,

Ever slow did I open through pitch could not see,

Peeking head ‘round the door from behind.


Twas it wind, or rain, mayhaps a stone at it threw,

I presumed was a knock at the door,

Mustered courage did I gather to do what I must do,

As I shuffled myself to the porch.


An icy chill did rise, up the length of my spine,

As the door slammed behind me with haste,

Extinguishing candles, immersing me blind,

Backing up in my steps I did trace.


My next to last step to my knees did I fall,

At the boots of a figure in black,

Turning ‘round, sure to face my funeral pall,

To the side of my head he did crack.


Taste of blood on my lips, as the iron from a fire,

Blurred vision as I’m yanked by my hair,

To my feet I was dragged to the square of the shire,

Say a word, nay I wouldn’t have dared.


In silence, with strength this devil held tight,

Pray I did, for my soul to please save,

As courage I gathered with all of my might,

I begged for my death to be staved.


With sickle in hand I knew time was through,

Pay the piper for sins of my youth,

Upright and firm, though in pain it was true,

In death sins be hidden from truth.


Blade razor sharp from my neck blood did fall,

Crimson rivers down my chest it did spill,

A stroke from the edge warm and tired was all,

Up to God I commit all my will.


When daybreak did come to reveal gruesome site,

To Hell where the demon had fled,

Nary trace did he leave from his pitch darkened flight,

Except for the shire dwellers head.


A century on, Satan’s minion ne’er captured,

Legend passed down through third generations,

Unsettled and fearful still awaiting the rapture,

Asking God for consoling libations.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

The Dead of Night (A Poem)

By D. R. DiFrancesco

Nightfall settles in
Overtaking the light
Howling, hooting, cawing sounds
Startled, peering up, down, left, right
Noise from all directions
Fear and angst clutter the mind.

Irrational thoughts of dread
Rustling leaves and brush
Freeze as though flash frozen
“What’s that?” said internally
“Nothing but the wind.” the reply
Nerves pricking the skin like a million needles.

Trembling, feeling breathless
Shadows unfold, something is watching
Moonlight and movement weave their tale
Nonsense as the pace hastens
Trying to outrun torment
Trepidation weighs heavy.

Lightening flashes, knees weaken
Surroundings visible in the flash
Lost, the scene barbaric
Foreboding wrenches at the soul
Uncontrollable, Tears flow in streams
Screaming, the only respite.

Senses amble untamed
Drenched, sweat cold and moist
Disoriented struggling to find the way
Surreal, clutching the sheets
Muscles tighten, eyes open with a jolt
Relieved it was only a nightmare.