Fadrian Bartley

The April Editor's Pick Poet is Fadrian Bartley

Please feel free to email Fadrian at: thestainofniniveh@gmail.com



The midnight snowflakes
Fell silently in the dead hours of obscurity
The buried undisturbed, 
Illuminating lightning bolts scattered above the open plains,

So bright that headstones could reveal their names
A little heart beats, tremendously,
Breathless below the deep,

Covered with a thick sheet,
Heart skipped a beat,
The window need to close
Drastic weather, 
Light short circuit so the dark must stay here for a while,
These white curtains like flowing gowns in treacherous wind,
I must reach out and tip toe through the thick blackness, 
The cold invited itself,

Barefooted on concrete of chilly intensity
And sweat to the imagination of midnight mistress,
Forcing through the sleepy hollow
Of a tiny space that need to close
Rushing to blot out what may swiftly resides
But there I stand lost into a cat creepy eyes


Pillars of smoke disturb the heavenly plains
Coming from below the saddens earth 
Where bodies burn and remain for days 
And not a single drop of rain

Screams echoes from the lonely woods
Men in search found a child 
Sitting beside burning rugs
With blooded corpses covered with bugs 

Seem so strange for a child to grieve 
All by herself is hard to believe 
An hallowed ground for cultist scheme
From the touch of a child they fell into a dream

To a place seem dark and obscure
Voices whispers coming from the sea shore 
They lingers there and saw strange things 
With human form and a pair of wings

But swiftly vanish out of sight 
Left them trembled and in fright 
Gloomy dark no beam of light 
The owls and its cuckoo in the dreaded night

Something swiftly passing by 
A broom is what she used to fly
On return she chant and laugh
With casting spell and dreaded craft

Obnoxious smell stinks the air
And those two strangers haunt with fear
Their journey repeats all over again 
And the only thing remain is the blood that spill on the ground of salem


The sun is down, the earth fell asleep
And the wind is blowing through the darkness at its peak
This quiet house becomes hide and seek
From stories I heard about things buried beneath

The moonlight shines through the windy night
Reflect these curtains with beautiful lights
Dogs hound such hours and this doesn’t seem right
Hallucination when I see objects in white

Cold emptiness of the lonely dark
With the attached of rusty paint and strange marks
Accompanied with only
The beat of my heart

I felt the chill blowing through an open door
Slamming angrily It echoes through the third floor
Swiftly I ran to have it closed
But below the steps was scattered roses

Like falling trees 
with broken branches
The silence had me traumatized 
I hesitate and will take no chances

I held my face up to the clouds
And saw what seem to be flying fowls
Many they were to cover the moon
But something else was in the back room

A broken glass shattered the silence 
I felt the horror of a dreadful presence
Laughing, screeching running all about
Through an open window they swiftly goes out

Fadrian Bartley lives in Kingston, Jamaica. He is a fiction writer and poet in the horror genre and uses metaphors for inspiration. His favorite poets are Roald Dahl and Emily Dickinson. His work appeared in R.F.D Magazine, issues 173, 175 and 178.

Fadrian is a front desk agent with a diploma in customer service.