The Haunted House and Other Spooky Poems and Tales

This Scholastic book, The Haunted House and Other Spooky Poems and Tales, published in 1970, includes 80 pages of pure delight for the young and not so young reader. 

It has some of the best poems written about death and ghosts, I have ever read. They all are very creative, plus many of them are scary, which makes it even more fun.


This book is excellent entertainment for the whole family. It is no longer published, so some copies in good condition are going for a high price. I think this is because so many people remember this anthology, with such fondness from their childhood. 

But you can still find paperback copies on Amazon for a reasonable price.

In 1970, when the book was published a companion album, and then later a cassette was also released with the text under the same title. This recording is also really well done. 

I have included these recordings at the bottom of this post. Both the book and record are mostly poems, but it also includes several traditional scary stories, two of which I have shared in other posts--The Velvet Ribbon (sometimes published under the title, The Green Ribbon) and The Cradle That Rocked By Itself.

Here are just three samples of the quality of poetry that is included in this book:

The Haunted House

Not a window was broken

And the paint wasn’t peeling,

Not a porch step sagged--

Yet there was a feeling

That beyond the door

And into the hall

This was a house of

No one at all.

No one breathed
Nor laughed, nor ate

Nor said "I love,"

Nor said, "I hate."

Yet something walked

Along the stair

Something that was

And wasn’t there.

And that is why weeds

On the path grow high,

And even the moon

Races fearfully by--

For something walks
Along the stair--

Something that is

And isn’t there.

By Vic Crume

It isn’t the cough
That carries you off;

It’s the coffin 
They carry you off in.

Anonymous

Dust

Agatha Morley 
All her life

Grumbled at dust

Like a good wife.

Dust on the table,

Dust on the chair,

Dust on the mantle

She couldn't bear.

She forgave faults

In man and child

But a dusty shelf

Would set her wild.

She bore with sin

Without protest,

But dust thoughts preyed

Upon her rest.

Agatha Morley

Is sleeping sound

Six feet under

The moldy ground.

Six feet under
The earth she lies

With dust at her feet

And dust in her eyes.

By Sydney King Russell

Here are the recordings of this book: