Charles Eades

We currently have seven poems by Charles Eades. The poems are read by Charles. You can listen to them all one after the other using the playlist below or if you prefer you can click the links further down to read a specific poem whilst listening to it.

Copyright © Charles Eades

Read and listen to The Day The World Ended

Started early the day the world ended
Cracks in the earth made for slow going
Took my camera, admired the view
As the sky caught fire and blood rain fell
Back home I boiled an egg for breakfast
The shell split and a dragon
The size of my hand
Flew around the kitchen
I turned on the radio for the daily horror
A new continent had appeared in the pacific
A meteor had demolished New York
In Egypt, the elder gods had returned
And established a reign of terror to last a thousand years
I tutted and sighed
Such terrible things happen abroad
Meanwhile I’ve a parcel to deliver
Though the recipient lies buried in a hail of fish
And an email to send
Though the server is a little busy nuking Moscow
Then I really must do the shopping
Though the contents of the meat aisle have returned to life
And are eating the customers
Still, mustn’t complain
Lots to do
Things to do today: Burn.

Read and listen to No Face

Out in the dark I stand gazing at the light
No warmth out here
My pale skin bleached by moonlight
I am alone, the silent watcher
I can see you
I can hear you
You don’t know I’m here

Things were different then
I loved the night as much as any
Danced, sang, was alive as only a spirit can be
They took my face, my heart, my soul and left me empty
All I do now is watch and long to be part of that dance

She was an outsider like me
She didn’t know
She invited me in
And now I am here, no longer on the outside
I’ll extend a hand
Come to me, little thing
I have what you most desire
I may have no face but I know what you want
And now we are together

Here they come, pouring in
Took no notice when I was outside
They all want something
Well, I’ll give it to them
And then I’ll make them part of me and none of us will ever be alone ever again
Come to me
I can make you loved, needed, wanted
Take my hand
Give in to me

She came with sin
That’s how she did it
I could have made her part of me as well
But she reached inside and choked and poisoned
Until I was empty and alone as before
But I’ll keep watching because that’s who I am
Surprisingly easy to watch even when you have
No face.

Read and listen to Winter

It starts with a troubled sense that the world is slowing down
Birds lose their summer joy
And fall silent
The gentle humming of insects fades into the ether
All descends in to the stillness of the tomb

What joy is to be found in this festival of death?
Even a storm that demolishes homes
Rips apart towns
Drowns children
Can yet be beautiful
Snow moulds the ugliest of modern landmarks
Into a sculpture of white
Hope may be found on a blank canvas
All our cares buried in winter’s blanket
All our sins frozen beneath the ice
Then the merciless sun emerges from its cave
And bombards the earth with unstoppable rays of dread heat
Landscape a wasteland of slush
Icicles fall from above to chill the innocents below
The sun like a casual lover
Returns to its lair
Leaving us barren, abandoned, alone to the cold

The night is long and full of sorrow
We wake in darkness and sleep in fear
Sun soaked memories are no comfort now
Here in the dark and the cold
We huddle with our log stoves and our ghosts
And pray for the light to return
Pray to whatever God is listening
For fear that, this time, it will never come.

Read and listen to Radio Revelation

You’re listening to Radio Revelation
And the time is later than you think
While the world collapses into the fires of Armageddon
We’ll be here, whispering to you through the darkness
With comforting tunes from artists living and dead
Mostly dead
And if you’re wondering where we’re recording
I can’t tell you because the Wild Hunt are after us
But here’s a clue
The city we’re under was once renowned for its beautiful women
Until they turned into giant spiders and ate all the men folk
That was an interesting day
Now for some end times beats
Who better to get us in the mood for the Rapture than the king of baroque himself, Richard Wagner
Ride Valkyries, ride!
I don’t know where you’re riding to
But it has to be more peaceful than here.

You’re listening to Radio Revelation
Sit back, relax, watch the blood rain
While we serenade you into Judgement Day
Now for some breaking news
The Tower of Babel has been rebuilt
An old man sits at the top
Whispering unfathomable secrets in every language that was ever spoken
Or not spoken
When he stops, the ground will open
And the uncounted hordes of the damned will rise to claim the Earth as their own
In a dread holocaust lasting ten thousand years
Repent sinners, or be consumed in the eternal inferno
And now, the dance of the sugar plum fairy.

You’re listening to Radio Revelation
If you’re wondering why we’re the only station left on air
It’s because all the others have been closed down and their leaders executed
By order of the Emperor of New Rome
And if the emperor is listening
I hope he likes Wagner
Because I’m going to be playing the Ring cycle non-stop for three consecutive days
Then if I’m still alive when it’s finished
I’m going to play it all over again
What? Oh, news just in
The Emperor of New Rome has been assassinated by the hounds of the Morrigan
Let this station be the first to congratulate the new emperor
Long may he reign
Pardon? Oh, long may she reign
Don’t you just love equal opportunities.
Not that I have a problem taking orders from women
My producer was a woman
Only she was sacrificed by the followers of Baal
I miss her. I miss all of them
But enough of that, let’s have some tunes
Here’s a new record
Not sure how it got here, given we’re sealed underground
It’s called, ‘Enochian hymn to the demon god Nyarlathotep’
I hope it’s better than Pink Floyd.

You’re listening to Radio Revelation
If you’ve just joined us
I recently played a new record whose name I must not speak
It made my ears bleed
And all those who heard it over the radio immediately dissolved into puddles of viscous liquid
I perhaps should have sensed something was off when I saw the title was written in blood
Won’t be playing that one again
In fact, I can’t because it burst into flames
So, in the interests of not dissolving our listeners into puddles of viscous liquid
Let’s have something more cheerful.

You’re listening to Radio Revelation
We’re being kept alive for their sport
Here’s some more breaking news
Courtesy of our resident oracle
She may have no eyes and skin that glows in the dark
But her visions are disturbingly accurate
News flash: Washington DC has fallen to the armies of the Elder Gods
You heard it here first: Hail Abaddon and his legions
What? Sorry, her legions
This is a very feminist apocalypse
Not that that’s a bad thing
After all, if my soul is being slowly and painfully extracted from my body like water from a stone
I don’t care if the succubus is a boy or a girl
And if there are any succubae who happen to be listening
Please, come and end my suffering
Now for some more music to drown out the screaming
Here’s Tom Lehrer.

You’re listening to Radio Revelation
And if you’re still alive to do so
You must be in league with Satan
Can you get me his number? I’m desperate
Now for some more breaking news
Our defences have been breached
The armies of Morgoth have come to scalp us
While I wait for the angel of death to swoop in and carry me away from this talking coffin
Here’s some music to give you false hope as you await the final reckoning
Say your prayers, lock your doors, eat your children for their own good
We shall meet again, in Hell
This is Radio Revelation signing off

Read and listen to The Heart of the House

And who drew the sea, in this time capsule?
Long nights in primordial stillness
Gone are the days of adventure
Like frightened children
We huddle from the dark
Dream of happier times
Why hope for better
The light will not penetrate
Where the door is closed
The black cat in the window
Has not moved for twenty-eight years
Owls shriek in the darkness
Naïve, we think we keep the world at bay
An illusion of control
The universe is huge and full of terror
Life ends
Too swiftly
In pain and despair

I can remember aged nine
Hiding in the bathroom one night
Afraid to go back to my dark bedroom
For fear of what I might see
As adults we still fear the dark
We chase it away with electric light
Because we know deep down
The power will not last
And when the lights go out
All we will have is ourselves
Along with the real monsters
Within our minds

A storm that melted the Earth
Fireworks out the window
Visiting my grandfather shortly after he died
Evil spirits haunting my school
A naked girl in the water
Monsters in the corner shop
A meteor from the far side of the universe
The family cat coming to see me
Months after we buried her
A dinosaur watching me
The wolf in the hall
The king materialising through the floor
A room where many died violently
Dead babies in a stagnant pool
A slight detour into a war zone
The spider that could fly
A brief glimpse of heaven

The first time I put pen to paper
I wrote of superheroes
We grow out of such things
A thug in a cape no longer holds much appeal
Yet we still think of heroes
As athletic men with super strength
Tight suits
Mostly white
Who never seem to get hurt
Who always triumph in the end
Why does it seem patronising
To say the real heroes wear uniforms
Dry tears
Hold spoons
Grow crops
Teach children
Without reward, thanks or praise
In a society that doesn’t care

Looking back on games I played as a child
I wonder how the toys might have felt
Recurring violent death and endless conflict
Could be wearying
If you had the sentience
To understand what was happening
But then my characters have gone through worse
I never stopped to think how they might feel

Where were you the day the world ended?
I was in a classroom
Wondering what was for dinner

Is there anything more magical than a kitchen radio?
Here I can listen to the planet burn
As I drink my morning coffee
Music drives away the terror
Bruce Springsteen reminds me of home
Smell of bacon frying brings comfort
Life is short but not without pleasure

I can remember
Sitting on the sofa
Listening to my dad
Read about lions, witches and wardrobes
I have never felt as safe
Or as happy

A child goes down to the cellar
Only a candle to light her way
The stairs creak underfoot
Shadows flicker on the walls
Rats scurry beneath the floor
A black cat watches in the gloom
A voice whispers from the darkness
She reaches for the bucket of coal
The handle coated with slime
Something crawls over her foot
A claw gently brushes her face
Laughter echoes all around
She drops the bucket
Turns to flee
A hand grabs her ankle
She falls
Screams for help
None can hear
Tomorrow another child will come down to the cellar
There’s always another
The cellar can wait

In pain and despair
Too swiftly
Life ends
The universe is huge and full of terror
An illusion of control
Naïve, we think we keep the world at bay
Owls shriek in the darkness
For twenty-eight years, the black cat in the window has not moved
Where the door is closed
The light will not penetrate
Why hope for better
Dream of happier times
We huddle from the dark
Like frightened children
Gone are the days of adventure
Long nights in primordial stillness
And in this time capsule, who drew the sea?

Read and listen to The Void

In the dark, the stars listen
Memories stretch back billions of years
Old as sin
Here we wait
Light spills on untouched soil
Gravity falls
The black sun wakes
Here in the dark, time is dead
An atom of soil descends through the black
From one plain to the other
Unobserved, lands on the planet’s surface
It is one with the world
Microbes multiply again and again
Over and over
For thousands of years
Filling the cold, dead earth
With blessed life
The planet is awake
Who calls from across the void?
Deep beneath the surface
Where no light may shine
An ancient mind lies dreaming
What waits for us, above
Beyond the galaxy’s edge?
In time, deep time
The answer will be lost
As all things are lost in the ether
But the stars

Read and listen to After The Flood

After the flood
The wind rose
Took shelter in the valleys of the fair folk
A colour from the depths of night
Carved its name in the elder rock
Shadows swaying in the breeze
Began their lonely call
Hear it in the dark spaces of the earth
The one who answers does not sleep

But howls to the red moon
Sound and fury
In the pit of Angmar
A river that once could speak
Winds its lonely way to the ocean
Turns its back on a violent history
Where the sunset lasts a thousand years
Where mayflies dance in the pale moonlight
Where the leviathan dreams the universe

Can you hear them?
The whisperers have woken from their ancient sleep
Have turned their attention to the light in the east
The owl calls
Fire burns on the heath
Now is the time of midsummer madness
When the dew drops speak
The moonflower emerges to take its place
Among the dreamers
Who lurks among the shadows?
A shooting star makes its lonely way across the sky
Leaving a trail of phantasmagoria in its wake

Did you see the fly-by-nights?
They entered the temple of Pan
Then were gone
Nary a murmur to leave a trace
A gap opens in the ether
We close our eyes and descend
Past the ruins of ancient cities
Past the memories of forgotten gods
Through the rift
Out of time
Where the wild things lurk
Have you

Ever tasted fruit that grows in a graveyard? Or
Eaten from the tree long lost in
Eden? I have thirsted after
Eternity, like a necromancer in search of
Erebos. For who can know the
Essence of joy? Can one be
Elevated from the depths of mortality, or
Experience true wisdom? Only
Escape from this waking nightmare, and find a glorious

Forget the hand that taps
Against the window
Pay no attention to the eyes in the night
The thing that lurks in the gloom
Does not tire
Does not rest
Now is the witching hour
When the

Ghosts of ages past
Rise and wander
And we, the living
Watch them go

Helpless like children
We watch
Until the tiger

In the well
Has roared its last
And all the graves are empty
No-one sees the shade slip off its hood
And dive into the fire
Take heart now and

Join the flight of the wild geese
The sun is rising
All may yet be well
If only the rain will come
The stars may sing
The old ways survive
Witness the crowning of the

King under the hill
See the wind emerge
And turn about
As the dark clouds close in

Leave now. Do not wait
For the knight on his steed
The rocks are burning
The giant is awake
Let us run from the past
Turn not again
To the breaking of day
When the sun

They will not find us
In the canopy
Or the shelter
We are the mayflies
That dance on the water
We turn our backs to the day
And dream of the universe

A mockingbird wakes
Sings the turning of the year
Before vanishing in a burst of flame

Out in the desert
The jackal sounds its lonely call
No answer
Only the wind and the stars

The world is quiet
Far across the hills
Something stirs in the gloom

Questing beast
Emerges and gallops across the moor
Pursued by a nameless force of nature

Round the world they go
As they pass
Intelligences wake
That should have remained forgotten

Stronger now
They rise from their ancient sleep
And begin a spell that will ignite the earth
All who hear them flee
All who see them become dust
Mortality alights
The denizens of the world
Hide from the inferno
The wind rises
The sea boils
The sky aflame
The kraken wakes
The serpent lunges
The owl calls
The fire burns
The rocks melt
The vultures feast
The stars dance

Up in the heavens
A great light blazes
Imprinted on the eyes of the watchers
All things rejoice
To see the coming storm

Violet radiance spills across the globe
Those who know turn their faces away
Those ignorant watch, spellbound
As the maelstrom rages through the cosmos

Where to go from here?
If I were a sorcerer
I would shelter with the ancient ones
In Atlantis or

Xanadu. But we who witness
The harrowing of the world
Can only observe and take stock
And hope that some future race
Will learn and understand
We meanwhile
Shall dance in the ruins
Make love in the dark
Worship the god whose name is


Read and listen to Call For Silence

Cease this cacophony
Turn off the engines
Let them rot
Turn the music down
So I can hear the world scream
Tell every voice to hush
Send the birds back to their nests
Make every insect still and quiet
Banish the wind
Stop the rain
Extinguish every light
For fear the gentle humming disturbs the silence

Not enough

Put me away in a subterranean tomb
Lock the door, throw away the key
Seal it off with barbed wire and booby traps
Hush the earth worms in their frantic burrowing
Leave me here with nought but the dark and the cold
For twenty five million years
Until the world has moved on
Time has stopped
The sun is older and kinder
Then I may emerge
Remove the stoppers from my ears
Go quietly
In silence.

Read and listen to I am the Thing Inside Your Dreams

The house remembers
Every word spoken
Every fist raised
Every heart broken
Leaves a trace in the walls
Echoes in the timber
Whispers in the eaves
While we short-lived creatures come and go
The house remembers
Creaking on its aged foundations
Watching the world go by with windows like sightless eyes
If it dreams
Its dreams are troubled

I am alone here
Shut away from the world I no longer care for
No troubles
No distractions
No voices to ask me why
Only dwell here in silence
With the house for company
I pad from empty room to empty room
The walls absorb every sound
I will not speak
Will not break the spell
Wrought by forgotten fingers
In a long dead past
My own fears
Built up over a lifetime
Might finally be smothered
Here in the dark
Where I sleep

Who is the girl at the foot of my bed?
There in the corner, do you see?
Strange, if I look at her directly
She is gone
As if perception would undo her
She’s still there
Watching me
Pale eyes in a pale face
Impossible to read
Perhaps all of them
If I should wake to find I dreamed her, what then?
No comfort there
She may yet return
When next I close my eyes

Something has changed in the house
Maybe something that was always here, dormant, has woken
Footsteps in the dark
Movement just out of sight
Voices whispered
And at night, disturbing dreams
Curious that I am not afraid
Puzzled, yes
But these visions do not repel me
I feel more and more a part of this place
Like furniture
Or a painting on the wall
Perhaps it wants me here
It shows me excerpts from its history
To prepare me for living here
The more I know, the more I want to stay
Tell me more

The dreams grow clearer
I wish they hadn’t
A child weeping on the stairs
Hands raised in anger
An agonised cry
Animal or person, I cannot tell
Dark, cold water pulling me down
Filling my lungs
Drowning the light
I trust this is not the result of a restless mind
The girl returns every night
She seems more tangible, more solid
I have never yet seen her blink

I have found the water
A pool on the edge of town
Like a great wound in the earth
Nothing to see beneath its black surface
Someone drowned there
A child of twelve, fifty years ago
It might have been an accident
She’s still down there
Too deep to dredge
I wonder if in her watery grave
She dreams of the house
As it dreams of her

I am beginning to feel unwelcome
Sleep gets harder every night
Bringing such terrible nightmares
I fear to close my eyes
Days are consequently wearisome
I catch myself nodding
Amid a strong sense of being watched
The house seems afflicted with damp
Water accumulates where it should not
Wet footprints
A maddening drip, drip
The source of which I cannot locate
I know when I am not wanted
The house will no longer force its tormented memories on me
There is no shame in running away
Time to go

She will not release me
She follows me to a drab hotel
I see her in puddles
Even bathwater
I avoid water like a hydrophobe
Never leave the tap running
Hide from the rain
Still she comes to me
Every night
As I wake from horrific dreams
The house calls me home
What to do but answer?

The house welcomes me back
Like an old friend
I do not sleep
Walking the corridors at night
Every step echoed by another close behind
Though I am alone
Who whispers my name in the dark?
Who takes my hand
Leads me out
Through the empty streets
To the lonely pool
Draws me in
To the cold, black water
Further and further
Away from the world I shunned
Wraps its arms around me
Fills me up

Now I belong to the house
And while you short-lived creatures come and go
I remember
Creaking on my aged foundations
Watching the world go by
When I dream
I dream of you
Somewhere in the future
Months, years, decades
We can wait
Sooner or later, you will come
I will watch you sleep
I will fill your head with horrors
I will take your hand and lead you
To the dark, cold place
We will walk there together
For we are the things that haunt the house
And when the house dies
We will be free to haunt the Earth

Read and listen to Nightmare in the School Toilet

Funny things, secondary schools
Like small feudal kingdoms with strict hierarchies
Ghettoised by age
Then further broken down in to the popular kids
The smart kids
The arty kids
The sporty kids
The ones nobody loves
The ones everybody hates
The whole experience like a bad dream
Better or worse depending on where you fit in the social order
Where was I? Put it this way
Not the popular ones

Each part of the school had its own unique character
The classrooms, cold and drab
The corridors, at times like Bedlam, at others eerily silent
The sports hall, stinking of sweat and bodily shame
The main hall which felt like a cathedral but looked like a military complex
Then there were the toilets
Never clean, always crowded
Popular with bullies for tormenting the vulnerable
And with couples for clandestine lovemaking
I only went during lessons
Preferably maths or chemistry, the boring ones
The better to avoid being set upon or teased

We were neck deep in algebra
I made the request and was excused
Trudged through the silent corridors
Feet echoing on the stone floor
The toilets were mercifully empty
Only me and the sickly, soapy smell
I locked myself in a cubicle
Not in any hurry
Only to realise I was not alone
The toilet was occupied
Not by a person
A duck gazed up at me from inside the toilet bowl
And let out an inquisitive ‘Quack!’
I was surprised but not alarmed
After all, while not an everyday experience
A duck in a toilet is nothing to be afraid of
Or is it?
For there are those who prey on the solitary wanderer
And in this world, there are no safe spaces
Certain predators have evolved to present a façade of harmlessness
Thus luring their prospective dinner into a false sense of security
Why indeed should anyone fear a duck?
The mammalian brain does not class waterfowl as a threat
The thing behind me, however, would probably have set alarm bells ringing
Had I perceived it in time
But I did not
When the dust settled
They found not a trace of me or the abomination
It seems there are more things in heaven and earth to be afraid of
Than bullies and the stench of adolescent hate.

Charles Eades

Charles Eades is a writer and film maker based in Scotland. He has had one novel and three plays published, with his audio play ‘The Midnight Caller’ produced by the NoSleep podcast. He has recently started to write poetry. He is a dog lover and patron of the charity Staffie Support which campaigns on behalf of Staffordshire bull terriers.

You can find out more about Charlse here:-

Book Cover - The Two of Us

The Beanstalk - by Charles Eades

A spell binding fantasy retelling of the classic fairytale ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’.

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Book Cover - The Two of Us

The Forbidden School for Dinosaurs - by Charles Eades

Four children and one dog are messing around in an abandoned school building.

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Book Cover - The Two of Us

Son of the Lamp - by Charles Eades

Christ Forrester is a normal teenager – until one day he wakes up at Genie Academy.

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