Source via Pumpkinrot.
Showing posts with label halloween poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label halloween poems. Show all posts
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 30, 2013
#HALLOWEEN: EVE OF HALLOWEEN
days of a haunting
eerie sounds of a ghastly glow
take a footstep to the front
and enter the beginning of the maze
the hassle itself to bring yourself down
as laughs in the back creep under your skin
the hectic fear harassing the fact that it's there
yet bounds like vines in a grappling play
the eve of Halloween
in the nearing of a haunted house
as they put up the slaying
and wander into a man-made trap
fall into the amiss
deep down in the black mist
and frighten yourself by a stare
as you watch another fight along beside you
as the eve of Halloween comes taunting back once again
eerie sounds of a ghastly glow
take a footstep to the front
and enter the beginning of the maze
the hassle itself to bring yourself down
as laughs in the back creep under your skin
the hectic fear harassing the fact that it's there
yet bounds like vines in a grappling play
the eve of Halloween
in the nearing of a haunted house
as they put up the slaying
and wander into a man-made trap
fall into the amiss
deep down in the black mist
and frighten yourself by a stare
as you watch another fight along beside you
as the eve of Halloween comes taunting back once again
Oct 23, 2013
#HALLOWEEN: HALLOWE'EN IN A SUBURB
The steeples are white in the wild moonlight,
And the trees have a silver glare;
Past the chimneys high see the vampires fly,
And the harpies of upper air,
That flutter and laugh and stare.
For the village dead to the moon outspread
Never shone in the sunset's gleam,
But grew out of the deep that the dead years keep
Where the rivers of madness stream
Down the gulfs to a pit of dream.
A chill wind weaves through the rows of sheaves
In the meadows that shimmer pale,
And comes to twine where the headstones shine
And the ghouls of the churchyard wail
For harvests that fly and fail.
Not a breath of the strange grey gods of change
That tore from the past its own
Can quicken this hour, when a spectral power
Spreads sleep o'er the cosmic throne,
And looses the vast unknown.
So here again stretch the vale and plain
That moons long-forgotten saw,
And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray,
Sprung out of the tomb's black maw
To shake all the world with awe.
And all that the morn shall greet forlorn,
The ugliness and the pest
Of rows where thick rise the stones and brick,
Shall some day be with the rest,
And brood with the shades unblest.
Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark,
And the leprous spires ascend;
For new and old alike in the fold
Of horror and death are penned,
For the hounds of Time to rend.
And the trees have a silver glare;
Past the chimneys high see the vampires fly,
And the harpies of upper air,
That flutter and laugh and stare.
For the village dead to the moon outspread
Never shone in the sunset's gleam,
But grew out of the deep that the dead years keep
Where the rivers of madness stream
Down the gulfs to a pit of dream.
A chill wind weaves through the rows of sheaves
In the meadows that shimmer pale,
And comes to twine where the headstones shine
And the ghouls of the churchyard wail
For harvests that fly and fail.
Not a breath of the strange grey gods of change
That tore from the past its own
Can quicken this hour, when a spectral power
Spreads sleep o'er the cosmic throne,
And looses the vast unknown.
So here again stretch the vale and plain
That moons long-forgotten saw,
And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray,
Sprung out of the tomb's black maw
To shake all the world with awe.
And all that the morn shall greet forlorn,
The ugliness and the pest
Of rows where thick rise the stones and brick,
Shall some day be with the rest,
And brood with the shades unblest.
Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark,
And the leprous spires ascend;
For new and old alike in the fold
Of horror and death are penned,
For the hounds of Time to rend.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 5, 2012
DAY FIVE: STICK, MEET MUD
"I think we ought to close Halloween down. Do you want your children to dress up as witches? The Druids used to dress up like this when they were doing human sacrifice... [The children] are acting out Satanic rituals and participating in it, and don't even realize it."
-Pat Robertson
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