Poems of horror movies

In the dark of night, where shadows creep,
A tale of woe, from slumber deep,
A fan's creation, eerie and bold,
In Poe's own style, its words unfold.

'Twas whispered low, by candle's flame,
Of specters lurking without name,
Each stanza weaves a chilling tale,
Of haunted castles, deathly pale.

With every rhyme, a shiver grows,
Through misty moors, where sorrow flows,
An ode to darkness, bleak and cold,
In every line, dread takes its hold.

So read with care, this spectral verse,
Where every word may cause a curse,
For in this world of Poe's design,
The macabre and eerie intertwine.