Ron Larson

The January Selected Poet is Ron Larson

Please feel free to email Ron at: patronlarson@gmail.com


Inspired by a story from E.F. Benson

Animals were having their throats ripped out.
Some believed it was a sheep dog gone bad.
But about that theory, there was some doubt,
Especially when a young man was had.

His wounds were beyond those of a canine.
A werewolf was then suspected by a seer.
With this, people began to fall in line.
The small community was gripped with fear.

The seer had been called in by the mayor,
And she tracked the beast to a pastor’s home.
The preacher lived with his pretty sister
And his aide, who chilled the seer to the bone.

He looked like a man that you couldn’t trust,
And he was out the night the youth was killed.
She kept quiet, not willing to make a fuss,
Until she had proof of his evil will.

It was on the seventh day of her stay
When she saw the grotesque werewolf again.
This time she put her revolver in play
And shot the beast in its foam covered chin.

While dying, it changed into its human form,
And it was no longer looking sinister.
Oh, how the clever seer’s poor heart was torn.
It was the pretty sister of the minister.

Adapted from a story by Douglas Newton

Joseph Cumber, the crime novelist,
Had some news for the group that went like this:
“I could commit the perfect murder.
It would stump even a mind reader.”

About Joseph Cumber’s bold assertion,
The five members bought without question.
Cumber had grown rich over time,
Because he had a razor-sharp mind.

Four members of the group hated him.
They were writers whose talents were slim.
The fifth group member was a police
Inspector who would experience grief.

“My formula is locked in my safe,”
Said Cumber with a smug smile on his face.
“And my safe is the state of the art.
It would break the finest yegg’s heart.”

The cop guy said: “I wouldn’t be so sure.
There’s no safe that’s perfectly secure.”
“If that’s the case, then the sharp safecracker
Would be smarter than I,” replied Cumber.

Later, the inspector got a call.
Cumber shouted, “I was wrong after all.
The safe’s been cracked; my formula’s gone.”
So was Joseph Cumber, before too long.

Inspired by a story from William Harvey

The vicar was almost alone in the rail coach,
When a young man got in at Marshfield station.
He took a seat, shaking as if he’d seen a ghost.
He wasn’t interested in conversation.

Later, the vicar heard of the murder in Marshfield.
It was the night the young man had boarded the train.
This heinous case had turned as cold as an icefield.
He’d said nothing, so he felt a slight sense of shame.

Time passed, and one morning his wife said to him;
“Jim, I learned from Jill that a very nice person
Has moved into town, and that he’s an Anglican.
Naturally, she hopes he’ll join our congregation.”

He replied: “Great!” I hope he’s there this Sunday.”
When Sunday arrived, he was there for a short time.
When he saw the vicar, it didn’t make his day.
He fled like a killer from the scene of his crime.

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.