Ron Larson

The September Selected Poet is Ron Larson

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ron larson

Adapted from a story by H.P. Lovecraft

Once, while a student, the professor spent the night
In abject terror that resulted in his fear of mice.
The house teemed with these loathsome creatures,
And now this fright seemed to be embodied in her.

At breakfast, his wife had turned into a huge mouse.
He was appalled by the way she put food in her mouth.
Her hands were paws; her pointed ears were exposed.
Her shoulders were sloped; she had a twitching nose.

Was it all an illusion instead of a gray woman?
He resolved that morning to see an optician,
But the doctor told him that his eyes were just fine.
As the days passed, he thought he might lose his mind.

He found himself watching his wife stealthily
As she was engaged in sewing, writing or reading.
Out walking one day, he decided on murder—
The only way he thought he could resolve this matter.

When he returned, he found that she had left him,
And here’s part of the note that she’d hastily penned:
“I am gone for good, so I won’t be coming back.
I can’t rid myself of the thought that you’re a cat.”

Inspired by a story from H.P. Lovecraft

Last week, his wealthy, widowed mother had died,
And he didn’t want to share with his sister.
So he killed her in October on a dark night,
After carefully planning for the murder.

The killer wrapped her stout body in a rug,
And tightly tied the bundle with a strong cord.
He lugged it into his outboard, feeling like a thug.
Then that night, he headed out into the fjord.

Soon he tied the body to a cinder block,
And then hefted it to the side of the boat.
His heart was racing, and it soon was to stop,
Because she broke free, and he was beyond hope.

The last words the murderer heard were these,
As they plunged under the cold water that night:
“Remember, my loving brother, if you please,
Did we not agree to share and share alike?”

Adapted from a story by H.P. Lovecraft

The three out-of-towners had heard he was loaded
And that “the terrible old man” didn’t trust banks.
Too, they learned he was feared, but greed goaded
Them again to targeting a rich, ancient crank.

So one dark summer night, two of the three thieves
Entered the mansion, while the third stayed in the car.
Soon muffled cries were heard, along with soft pleas.
The driver hoped his cohorts weren’t going too far.

After nearly five minutes, the moans and groans ceased,
But his pals were taking their time in returning.
He began worrying about them and the police.
And when he saw them, his guts briefly began churning.

At noon, the men in blue found the abandoned vehicle.
They figured it belonged to the three rough strangers.
The old guy was suspected, even though he was feeble.
No evidence was found, which increased the terror.

Ron Larson is a retired community college history professor (Ph.D.), and one of his hobbies is writing rhyming poetry. His three above poems are from a project he is currently working on.

He has had horror poems published in Inner Sins, The Stray Branch, Blood Moon Rising, Bloodbond, Danse Macabre, Big Pulp, Aphelion, Hellfire Crossroads 6, and, of course, The Horror Zine. Larson’s 66 Classic Horror Stories Outlined in Rhyme and his 79 More Strange Stories Outlined in Rhyme are available from Amazon.