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Inspirational Halloween Poems | Inspirational Poems About Halloween

These Inspirational Halloween poems are examples of Inspirational poems about Halloween. These are the best examples of Inspirational Halloween poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |


From behind the crimson curtain,
The skylark sings within her
Gilded cage of musical notes,
To please her dark lord and master.
Beauty's prisoner of the forsaken,
She raises her voice in clarity's
Beneath crystal chandeliers opulence.
As if a bird taking flight within
Harmonies Symphony.
This youthful diva sheds
Her physical shackles, released
By a spiritual reclamation, of liberty's
Beyond her earthly form.
This mistress of song captures
Liberation’s heights, beyond freedoms
Escape, to soar high above the heavens.
She is set free, released within the music itself.
In the mind of the phantom, he plays
Along with the orchestra of the dammed.
A pianist of great renowned, with loves
Sweet melody, is inspired by jealousy’s
Conquest, she is his, always and forever.
The dead’s musicians, play on, with their
Instruments precisely in tune,
A delicate balancing, is each textures
Movement, it is harmony's perfection,
A Graceful sounding, carried across the
Stage of this twisted tragedy.
On destiny's piano the grand master sits,
With his candelabra lit, from loves eternal
Flame of desire.
It's light softly flickering, by gentle winds
Breeze, calling her name, Christine.
Oh angels of mercy, here the meadow lark
Singing, beneath the cobbled streets,
And sawyers chambered walls.
Love's prince does slay the beast,
As fire shatters the opera house, leaving
Nothing but ashes residue behind.
Yet in echoes voice, he screams by nights
Breath, her name once more, he calls unto her,
The phantom of the opera, Christen.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


Given are we the name of the vampire, creatures of the forbidden,
Driven to live forever within the shadows, or die
Beneath a wooden steak, through our black hearts of pure evil,
But in reality, we are so much more than fictions fantasy tails!
Passions blood devils, quenching our thirsts of desire beneath
The Flickering lamp light of centuries, the ageless immortals,
Entombed within the cryptic blood covenant of the fierce!
The children of the night, who bear the mark of the carnivorous beast,
Behold our dark father, whom dwells in the blackest pitch of hells
Crimson kingdom of death,
We are the lunar descendants of legacy's blood brethren, transfusions mutant
Disciples of darkness, prime evil chameleons of illusion and deception,
Invoking predators, feasting on the exposed under belly of humanities
Breasts of the sinful soul.
Abominations blasphemers, of the elliptical salvation of the divine,
Winged serpents of the devil's spawned, vampiric snakes curling around
The throats of mankind, infusing them with our deadly venomous poison!
Hooded cobras, existing underneath the veiled silhouette
Of the translucent moon, ebony dragons of twilight, flapping against
The harvest of the newly born undead!
White lilies of fleshes innocence, are lain to rest at the mausoleum of the forsaken,
Tender are the leaves of the blackened flowers of the newly pronounced dead,
These delicate petals are so cast a sunder by the winds breathe of the demonic moon!
Legends beasts of the fields to be feared, the unkempt, and unclean
Spiritual wracks hidden until night falls veil descends, but within us
Is a living piece of humanity, desiring to love, procreate and spawn,
Those of our kind, to invoke others of our species!
Beneath the earth is a world of living death, the kingdom of the undead,
Given birth by the slaying of the sun, here is our unholy domain of darkness,
For we are the cursed and the shunned!
My kind seeks the soleus of the shadows, bathing in the cold warmth of
The moons chilling air, we so soar beyond the tethers of humanity,
Swaying between the shifting clouds of gossamer, into a world of spiritual
Uplifting, singing the praises of our dark father, for we are the children of
Night off spring of the immortal one, the devil’s own kindred of the blood!
Given are we the name of the vampire, creatures of the forbidden,
Driven to live forever within the shadows, or die
Beneath a wooden steak, through our black hearts of pure evil,
But in reality, we are so much more than fictions fantasy tails!


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


From fathoms deepest keep, where man,
Shall not dare go, a white toothy giant
Dwells, with hatred's malice, this is a living man
Eater, whom lies at the bottom of the ocean.
In this striking zone, of deadly encounters,
Here where dead men tell no tails, crimson
Currents of the lifeless, float to the top of the food
Chain, and their last breaths of air explode, as
Bubbles above at the surface,
Leaving nothing behind but a bloody residue,
And the wreckage mangled life raft, and one word
Still lingers on the foreboding breeze, as a screams
Echoing drowns into whispers in silences last refrain,
Nay this aquatic Phantom, called Submarine,
Is the gray ghost that stalks within every human
Beings nightmares, just below the waves of our
Subconscious fears, a demon lurks in the darkness,
Of the murky shallows, waiting to take a bite
Out of us.
A thirty-seven foot killing machine, with razor
Blades of jagged ivory's, moving at velocities mega
Speed, heading straight for humanity's beach,
His favorite hunting grounds.
A leviathan of a shark, highly intelligent,
Circling his preferred prey called man,
The hunter is ready to appease his
Insatiable appetite that is never satisfied,
In a carnivores blood bath of mayhem,
Just off shore of paradise.
In hell's kingdom many souls scream from
Below one word that echoes through the
Chum filled surf above, SHARK.
For these are the latest victims, of
The Submarines wrath, and now they do
So warn the living, beware of this sharp
Toothed Giant!
Look into the black eyes of death, take
Notice if he bares the scare of men,
And notches gouge mark on his dorsal fin,
For than thee shall know for sure, if
It is truly the gray ghost,
Known as Submarine.
If thou’ art sure, than say your final prayers unto God,
And inhale one last deep breath of air,
Than swim away, as fast as you can,
For humanity is now on the menu!


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


Amongst myths and legends shadow realm,
Dwells an ancient evil.
Beneath temples walls, and shattered ruins,
Beware mortals of what lies within the,
Burnt offerings wreckage.
In a hushed stilled silence, a figure lingers,
On the outer edges farthest fringes,
In the dark recess of humanity's night terror,
Lurks a demon a demonic priestess,
Called Medusa.
Reptilians fork tongue of darkness’s,
Grand design,
Listen not be deaf to her sweet melodies
She slithers side by side as a rattle snake,
Moving in for its killing strike.
A hooded cobra lies behind emerald green eyes,
Laughing with sheer fiendish delights pleasure.
Deadliest of Lucifer's mistresses, she alone.
Waits for her next victim to enter,
This dead mans trap.
Frozen in that last tangible moment of existence,
Life depictions stone guardians, seemingly alive are
Poised in eerie poses.
Cement warriors with swords drawn and
Shields raised remain in battles stance.
A chilling realization is fears last expression,
Daring fools whom see death's reflection
Staring right back at them in the dark.
Fleshes accursed immortalized within
These statues of stone.
Fortune does not favor the foolhardy,
It punishes them by tortuous means.
A doubled edge blade placed in mortal,
Hands does not always yield a hero, or
Step ever so lightly, keep all weapons,
Close at hand.
Heroic deeds deny you this adventurous tail.
For in the hollows depth no spirit escapes,
In her garden most evil,
Beware the wrath of Medusa.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


What lies in the dark recess of the human mind,
That place where we dare not travel.
Behind our daily masks of illusions,
To another realm of thought beneath
Outward appearances deceptive delusions.
Here evil intentions are not spoken or
Shown in spite or malice,
But it exists none the same.
Behold good intentions problem child,
Those whom mean well but they become
Lost in empty corners called envy or jealousy.
Dark venues along life’s highway where
Humanities laws are blurred in lights reflections.
Beings lost within themselves, stand alone
On realities jagged cliff.
The candle of hope will not burn here,
Justices winds blow too strongly against
Truths righteous foe.
Laid slain or clipped creature cry out why.
But light has over come the darkness again.
Behold the golden hour approaches and the
Sun shines across heavens once more.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Narrative | |

it's magic

it's magic!

A prestidigitator I know
graciously agreed to show me
how to make quarters vanish
for small children in costume
on Halloween night.

After insufficient practice 
the night came for me to 
offer the choice, "trick, or treat".

Few came by to engage in the 
uh..."hallowed" American tradition
but that is another trick.

When asked "Do you want the trick, or 
do you want the treat?",
everyone, said "treat!", much to my dismay.

The final costumed charges came up,
a probable four-year-old girl
and her younger brother in tow,
mother at the driveway.

I asked her the question, expecting 
the previous answer in return, but
to my keen expectation, she answered "trick!"

I proceeded to pull out a quarter
and do a slight bit of slight-of-hand, 
somewhat clumsily, but when I opened
my hand to drop the vanished coin
into hers, she looked at her empty
hand for a few perplexed seconds,
then began to giggle uncontrollably
- now that, indeed, is magic to me.

© Goode Guy 2012-11-01

she got the "magic" coin and a big candy bar.

Copyright © Goode Guy

Details | Haiku | |

Halloween Haiku

<                                      amidst swollen moon
                                 creatures of the night stalking .....
                                          predator's bounty

                                          be ~ witching ~ hour
                                     beastly  mannerism   gone
                                          totally but .... wild

                                          black cat crosses path
                                          another seven years of ........
                                          having such bad luck

                                              culdron pot boils
                               hearts ~ gizzards ~ livers ... bat's hair 
                                          witches stilled brewing

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Rhyme | |

More Scary Than Halloween


We spin yarns and tell tall tales
Of warlocks, witches and spooks
And listen as they cast their spells
In countless volumes of books

We hear stories of bells that toll
Black cats, goblins and such
Flickering candles and wandering souls
It really has become too much

I've learned about a different book
Penned by the Hand of God
One day God will take a look
To see where you have trod

If your name isn't found there 
For you, it will be too late
You'll be cast into a lake of fire
Beyond the Pearly Gate

He'll close the book, ring the bell
Light a candle for your soul
Eternally, you will burn in hell
And so my story has been told

Curtis Moorman
21 September 2011

Copyright © Curtis Moorman

Details | Free verse | |



Poor miss Lizzie, a murderess acquitted, 
By a judgment’s ruling of her peers,
Yet command by histories theatrics.
Astound damsel, to the wealth’s elite,
A matron’s old maid, imprisoned by 
An unjust fate.
By the falling axes sharpened blade,
Two lives ended, ensuing the public’s
Scandal and out rage.
Does not the rhyme in time not state,
The accusations inquest to her guilt,
Without evidences accuracy to the accused.
Used to frighten the rich and poor
Children alike to behave or else, did this
So go, Lizzie Borden took an ax,
And gave her mother forty whacks,
When she saw what she had done,
She gave her father forty one.
A bloody odes melody, left to
History's swinging hatchet’s,
Rough unsheathed edge.
Rocking, chopping a ticking
Time bomb, of the pasted.
Her story's haunting mystery,
Still intrigues the Sherlock Homes
Detective, in the common man.
Whom did this dirtiest of deed,
The foul plays miscreant, that
Got away with murders perfect
Three ghostly voices scream
For justices revenge, a father,
A step mother and the daughter,
Proclaiming her own innocence.
Lizzie Borden's name, lives on
In Infamies guilty court of the


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


Entombed behind isolation walled
A haunting malice trapped me within.
Crouching beneath shadows shroud,
 Leering eyes pierce.
Through darkness’s pitch black,
Pacing beast intercepting motions,
 Movements, mocking my,
Feeble attempts to evade frenzy's,
Deceptions deceiver, silver tongued, 
Weaver, spewing lies deceit.
Intricately aligning it's widow,
 Makers webbing,
Feasting on innocence betrayal.
Heckling, laughter echoes, against,
 Dead reckoning.
A chilling appetizing, as if pleased,
 At malice’s intent.
Fiendishly, delighting in torturing,
It’s human pet.
A vacant mumbling feeling over,
 Comes reasoning,
A deeper anger begins to rage,
Rebelling against hatred’s,
Horrifying entity.
Motivated to survive beyond spectral,
Hear my disgust, creature,
 I shall destroy thee.
Leave me alone, screaming aloud,
 Sanity's domain gives way.
In musty halls empty hollows,
 An odorous stench.
Fills mine senses,
Cease mortal miscreant,
 None leave here alive,
Shudders blood runs cold down raw
 Veins nerve endings,
A deepening realizations rushes,
 The conscious mind,
I'm deaths play thing.
To be pounced upon, a toy mouse,
 Caught between claws,
Extracting, retracting at whims invoking.
Invisible hands grasp choking life's,
 Breath away.
Feeling every heartbeat slowing,
 Quietly ceasing.
Stinging painfully ringing at ear, 
Shots quivering,
Oblivion's mute murmurs never part,
Lips tightly closed.
Let mercy's fallen be forgiven,
 Released from,
Beyond hells hidden regions,
A place devoid of spiritual salvation.
Foul demonic spirit haunting,
 A madman's kingdom,
It whispers to me in sweet melodies,
Now we begin, and you truly belong to me,
With satisfactions grimace, it smiles.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Sonnet | |

Beautiful Lies

December 18, 2012

Beautiful lies known as little white lies
yet one is no more deceptive than each
The truth is what makes it afraid of light
It's important we practice what we preach

Imagination built on lies destroy
Imagination built on truth create
Conquering evil we try to avoid
Tooth fairy, Halloween, Santa abate

Perceptions and images make it real
Origins of Pagan rituals true
We've wandered down this path for a bum deal
Now more lies are created all brand new

The mask behind a beautiful white lie
is the truth with a constant shield, but why?

Copyright © humble b

Details | Couplet | |

Fastest Gun In The West

<                                      Now hold on there Tex !
                                        Let me get     dressed  !

                                        Let me saddle up my horse
                                        To trollop around this Halloween course

                                        Got on my chaps
                                        My spurs and cowboy hat

                                       Replica's of forty five's
                                       Riding on my hips very high

                                       With lasso in my hand
                                       This little cowboy has a plan

                                      So all you ghost and goblins
                                      It's candies bounty I'll be coming an robbing

                                      And I'll be taking  loot for mummy
                                      And for my daddy who has a bigger tummy

                                                  Happy Halloween To All
                                   Especially little tikes who are so cute and small

Entry For 
Halloween Costume Contest
G.L. All




Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Free verse | |



Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!
A sudden shimmering, in the beguiling mirror of illusions,
As in the icy eerie chill of this frozen man made pool of
Optical delusions, something within shifted and moved!
Disembodiment's outcasts to incisions resistance, cut at
The bitter edge of the graves stone marker, are these
Silhouette shadow beings, trapped within clarities maze
Of solid crystal!
Black sheets haunted, hidden behind the spiritual mirrors
Of religion, encasement's prison of soulless mists, a vaporous
Cage without iron bars, nor steels reinforcement, these are
The lost or damnation's cursed unto the light of salvation!
What skeletal keys can unlock these dimensional doorway,
And just where is the keyhole to fit, this illusionary anomaly?
At the shutters sudden flash, in ethereal creature slides
Across the screen of realities review mirror, a dark 
Hauntings presence that alluding the neck eyes detection!
A dead man’s situation lies exposed, by the elemental
Reflection of lights retraction, hidden beneath the graveyards
Bones of the unsolved murder!
Within the winds of the whistling breeze, hear the unruffled
Cries of fates lost children, crying out for justices guiding
Light to save them, from the disembodied hands of their
Running children of the ethereal night, whom rage in
Vengeance, against the glass prism of shattered light,
Weeping in devastation's despair, for their loss of life eternal!
At the flashing neon point of no return, the devils forsaken
Sake at the tempered glass of realism, clamoring to be
Recognized for once existing!
Within the four squared frame of reality, dwells the
Infinite pool of the ethereal realm, and in its rippling
Waves, phantom faces are shone in the tormented poises
Of the after life’s jail cell, without the possibility of
Paroles final tender mercy!
Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


It is the craving never satisfied, the malformation
Of gluttonous starvation, the disfigured beast of emaciation.
Hell's spiritually depraved wind walker, feasting on the
Lingering slowing pulse of the flat liners final vibrations.
Engorging itself on the fiendish terror, unleashed by this
The devil’s own kindred son!
Dare not look into his hollowed out eyes, turn away from
This misshapen abomination, with its tautly pulled
Flesh, stretching thinly over its boney skeletal frame, it so
Lurks in the night shadows, waiting for a moment of
Unconscious weakness!
For it senses your revulsion, yet it excites and stimulates
Its inner bloods thirst, and desire to feed, awaken from this
Realistic nightmare, quicken your pace, hasten your steps,
Run mortal fool, run!
But there is no safe place to hide, once you bare his
Mark as prey, the predator by midnight follows the
Unrighteous footprints, this blackened satanic beast!
Beware the wrath of the Wendigo, for it has no soul.
This demonic sadist, hiding within the arms of darkness.
Behold this Insatiable cannibalistic hunter,
Taboo’s flesh crawler, stalking on the edge of reality,
Thriving on the hatred, and malice of your civilized society.
This demonic boogie man, whom dances on the grave
Stones of the innocent backwards, wearing a mask
Of lies and deceit, spitting forth a foul odorous
Stench, repelling the living, attracting the undead!
Beneath the chilling air, a creature so slithers, undetectable
Turning into vaporous mist, sniffing at the shifting winds,
Seeking, testing its keen awareness against the night breeze.
Kneeling in the holy church, the sinner begs for redemptions
Shield, to protect him against this foul monster of evil,
But it is too late, for the devil owns this fallen soul,
And the wendigo, is here to collect on his dark fathers
Unconsecrated debit.


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | Free verse | |


Born within the realm of hell's fire, spawned in the ashen dawning,
Between brimstone's sacred flame, and sulfur's earthen cauldrons,
Given the spark of life by the elemental goddess, nature herself.
The she-devil sleeps, in her Multan rock cradle, slumbering
In a lava tubes chamber, dreaming of the cooler world above.
But fire and ice begets steam, which burns and singes at raw flesh,
Yet the she-devil feels it not, scaled in battlements armor, both
Above and below, she remains impervious, divinities off spring
Of excellence, perfection's ultimate killer.
Creations creature of contrast, birthed within fire, but inwardly,
She yearns to feel the chilling winds of ice and snow, against her
Flesh and bones.
Confusion's destructive force of raw power of the supernatural,
Yet within her beating heart, sorrows remorse lives,
Keeping rhythm with the pulsating, changing of
The seasons.
Awakening from hibernation's isolation, shattered
Are her frozen dreams of illusion, melting into broken
Shards in this delusion alary reality, of her fiery realms
Raising her head the she-devil, cries crystal line tears,
That fall unto the smoking earth,
Creating a circle of steam, around the beast.
Oh mother forgive thee, for what I must do,
Begging, pleading, forgive me, forgive, but my heart
Whispers ever so sweetly with the longings desire,
That I cannot bare its weight any longer!
Growling, gripping, tearing until finally braking
 Through to the ethereal sun world beyond.
Freedoms unshackled dragon, the she-devil spreads her
Ebony wings outwardly, embracing the chilly
Currents of the night winds beneath her massive body.
Behold hearts ascension, a living inferno,
Soaring in flights vast divides on high,
Then descending into the polar ionosphere,
Then diving lower, and lower
Free falling just letting it go, to achieve her
Dream's awaking, the highest price she knows
Must be paid, to exist within her icy illusions,
And it is Life itself.
Physically crashing in to the ice and snow below, she becomes
 A living avalanche, a frozen monument to dreams achievement,
Thus so she sleeps at eternal peace at last.
The flame of the she devil lies now encased within her frozen tomb,
And this earthen dragon soars no more except on a higher spiritual
Plane of existence, dipping and diving through a stormy blizzard,
Yet the smile of contentment does so burn, within her icy heart at last.

Even within something created by evil,
Their can be some beauty hidden within,
In the heart of the blazing dragon, it cools
As it's inspirational dream becomes fulfilled!


Copyright © cherl dunn

Details | I do not know? | |


Goblins and scarecrows
Hobos and whores
Dress up as a playboy
Become the singer who tours
Make up fun riddles
you can recite at the door
Recieve money and candy
from both the rich and the poor
Carve jack-o-lanterns
Make pumpkin pie
Howl like a werewolf
at the night sky
This holiday comes but, once a year
allowing you some time to just escape
It empowers your imagination
"Halloween" I think it's great!"

Copyright © lori kerrigan

Details | Rhyme | |

Help her Carve for Halloween

She was a little toddler,
Rotund with baby flesh,
All over,
Eyes shining in anticipation and excitement,
She was the one I had,
Her mother had died in child birth years ago,
My little one was reared in my manly care,
Though it was at best bare,
Leaving me sad,
All that I saw since was red,
And felt less good than bad,
I often lay morose and down,
I lit up only when she was shown,
Often it was she who came to my bed,
Caressing me with those little palms,
Rubbing those ruddy cheeks against mine hot ones,
Looking deep in her blue eyes,
Made me feel that I had deep sea dive with a sigh,
All days were alike for me-sad and forlorn,
But she was discovering and frolicking like a latest born,
Today she came,
While I was still mentally lame,
She had a secretive look,
As if she had something on brook,
She coyly smiled,
Lighting me for a little while,
And left, yes simply left,
She would come to me every fifteen minutes,
But now she was gone for an hour,
I weakly lifted and walked to her room,
There it all looked mire than ever in need of broom,
There she was in a corner on the carpet,
With pumpkin flesh all over the floor,
And on her face, hands, legs as if in a messy gore,
She had a knife in her hand,
And she was stooping on a murdered pumpkin,
As I called her she looked up,
She had long forgotten about her sup,
Her eyes met mine,
An energy flashed into me,
Her innocence and joi de vivre went up livid,
And I could remember this day quite vivid,
It was this day years ago when her mother had flown,
Leaving my baby and me on my own,
But now the mother came alive in her baby,
And was saying ,"dead I may be",
Rise up and make her life,
Look at her preen,
And help her carve for Halloween.

Copyright © Shishir Gupta