all poems © Yvonne Plum


in the year of the mouse

time went backwards on me

so that I could see

a sun rise in the west.

a star fell from the cloudy sky

and the magi got lost

in the labyrinth of a






horror poem

the thing from the closet

and the thing from the cellar

the thing from the forest

and the thing from the swamp

lock their hands

and they dance

into midnight´s full moon.

the zombie the vampire

the ghost with red eyes

they live in your dreams

and they feed on your brain.

the creepy and crawly

the sticky and slimy

all dwell in your head.

close your eyes to their waltz

and your ears to their whisper

still they´ll swirl you and whirl you

around in their midst

and they´ll leave you

in the dark hour of morning

to go just stark raving mad

on your own.





weeping roses

shedding leaves like tears

while that salty taste

of a never promised kiss

still lingers on my lips.





deep green poison thoughts

rainbow bubbles are exploding

in my deep green poison thoughts.

I ask the man in the moon for the right way

and he tells me to just follow my nose.

someone sure is pulling my leg

but I won´t turn around

for fear of becoming Lot´s wife.

now Ms. Luna brings food for the loonies

and buys strong drinks all around.

there is a waste land before me and a jungle behind –

no, I won´t be afraid of driftsand nor tiger nights

for I´ve said all my prayers and lit all my candles

and there is a crocodile crying right by my side.





Delirium Tremens

Last night Lady Moon put a gun to my head, laughingly, and I told her to go on, if she dared. That was when I exploded in screaming colours of blue, red and green. The smell of cordite filled the room and a stern godly creature came into view, saying: "Now look what a mess you are! You really should have known better."

For a while I dreamlessly slept. When finally I awoke it was to the sight of the sands coming in through the fine cracks in my window, flowing and trickling from window sill to carpet, rising and reaching for me on the bed. Ticklingly they touched the soles of my feet and filled the small places between my toes. They covered my hands like gloves and tied my fingers together. And just before I had to close my eyes against the grainy pain I noticed spiders on the ceiling, spinning webs soft and white like granny´s hair but a lot more persistent than old age.

They tell me that this is the chilly side of midnight, and I have to admit: it really is a great experience. Nevertheless I wonder: Will I ever come by here again?





wrong number

there is a steady red light in the night

the point where I hang my conscience

before drifting off to sleep

when all of a sudden

a noise


no message tonight

just the crackling sound of digital silence


- clack -

maybe wrong number

maybe someone who ran out of words


and I


the red light


and off

and on

and off


like a monitored heartbeat

and I

quietly screaming


and "please, stop"

and in my mind

reaching for the button

- stop -

but afraid of oblivion.





the glitter of an earring in unwise eyes

dilated pupils devouring another´s face

he scorned her drinking habits

but he longed for her mind.










The Dark Man

from the shadows he greeted me

the dark man

he toasted my glass of champagne

with his pint of black guinness

- or was it foaming blood that he licked

from his sharp pointed teeth?

when he silently crept into my bed

I noticed how the mirrors refused him.

then the door closed

with a hollow sound

and the bats in the belfry grew restless.





floating demons

in the twilight sky

ghostly visitors

choosing the blue and the purple

they allow me to dream on

in that nightmare landscape

of alien riverbeds

where the water tastes like dust

till early morning reaches out to wake me

not with a lover´s caress

but with sulphurous screams of lightnig

and then

- as always -

all hell breaks loose

in the padded cell of my brain.






breaking into my life

endangering dams

opening floodgates

filling head and soul







in a vaulted cathedral

after the last prayer has been said.

and then

only love


in mortal agony


. . .





Magic of Darkness

he is the wizard

the warlock

the magus

cracking mirrors

under his allmighty tread

faithfully followed

by the 13

the cat

and the me.

This is NOT a picture of the author!