The October night was dark and cold,
As the autumn sun was going down,
When I recalled the legends I had been told,
About this sleepy, little town.
There were tales about the haunted woods,
They say the wind seems to call your name,
I was going where no one should,
And if I survived, I'd never be the same.
I walked through the covered bridge,
As the harvest moon rose into the sky,
I had made it around the darkened ridge,
Just as I heard a lone wolf's cry.
I walked the path of the dark, gnarled thicket,
Through the fallen leaves of maple and oak,
I heard the chirping of a cricket,
Near the hollow, where the bullfrogs croak.
Then, I heard the "hoot" of an owl in a tree,
And the "caw" of a raven on it's perch,
The headless horseman I hoped not to see,
As I passed the graveyard near the church.
I told myself I would be alright,
Just as I heard the hooves of a horse,
But, I knew I would make it home tonight,
Because there are no ghosts, of course.
August 30th, 2013
(This was my tribute to "The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving.
I wrote it from the perspective of Ichabod Crane.)
Rising from their graves,
Breaking through the ground,
Raised by radiation waves,
They are coming to your town.
Board up all your doors,
Nail them good and tight,
Or there will be blood and gore,
By the end of the night.
They tear down your walls,
Break through your window pane,
No one can help you at all,
When they try to eat your brain.
Those dead eyes make you shiver,
You scream out with alarm,
Zombies try to eat your liver,
And, chew on your leg and arm.
There is no point to tell her,
That it is just too late,
Go hide down in your cellar,
You cannot escape your fate.
Zombies are the living dead,
They do not easily expire,
So, cause injury to their head,
Or, burn them with fire.
Hungry zombies do not give,
Oh, you better run,
Or you will not live,
To see the rising sun.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
October, 11th, 2013
For Leonora Galinta's contest -
"Halloween-Only One Theme...Zombies!"
Born and raised as a little child in a Witches’ coven,
the Black Witch was indeed a very precocious child
whose hell-spawned soul was seared in Hell’s oven,
and like Medusa herself was a creature gone wild.
The Black Witch had a craggy, malevolent demeanor
and at a glance was stark, sinister, menacing and unholy,
with jet black snake-like hair making her even meaner;
she was a reincarnated spirit dispelling all things good and holy.
The Black Witch was imbued with uncanny, unearthly powers
and had dark probing eyes and exceptional sensory perception,
and a bulbous, bile-ridden black wart was prominent among her powers,
and protruded close to the tip of her nose from the time of her conception.
She used the bile, putrid liquid extracted from her black wart to capture
and poison and corrupt the life essence of her victims—if they resisted;
she acutely honed her pagan skills in the Black Arts to the highest rapture
while using her Gorgon-grimaced face to strike fear in all who resisted.
As the most favored disciple and mistress of the Dark One,
the Black Witch possessed a withering and wicked mesmerizing gaze
used masterfully to corrupt and control souls for the Dark One,
dooming her victims forever to a land with an impenetrable haze.
The Black Witch brewed alchemic poisonous potions to a hideous effect,
using them to startle, stun and paralyze her victims with unending fear
while unmercifully taunting and tormenting them with equal evil effect,
using Witchcraft to destroy once innocent souls and harvest fear.
Intoning “Our Father, which wert in Heaven,” the Black Witch
began her Black Mass sessions with spirited evil and debauchery,
conjuring terrifying dreams and consigning victims to a black pitch
all the while laughing and reveling in all the evil and debauchery.
The Black Witch delighted in being “The Devil’s Concubine” by name,
for her liaisons with Lucifer made her omnipotent and devoutly unholy.
Her unbridled sense of power and invincibility was the Black Witch’s aim,
for this fed her conviction to do vicious and evil things—to be unholy.
To know the Black Witch was to realize a gorgonesque damnation forever
while she pursued the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.
The Black Witch was granted the power of all hell-spawned demons forever
to support and consummate her unholy activities in the name of Lucifer.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (August 19, 2014)
Pick those crisp, red McIntoshs,
And warm some caramel for dippin',
Pick those green Granny Smiths,
And heat some cider for sippin'.
It's time for apple pickin',
Down on the rural farm,
And Halloween treat or trickin',
With some rustic country charm.
From the beginning of September,
To the last day of November,
We will be gone apple pickin',
Makin' fun moments to remember.
Pick those crisp, red McIntoshs,
And warm some caramel for dippin',
Pick those green Granny Smiths,
And heat some cider for sippin'.
None of you will be sobbin',
Cause right before your eyes,
There's a game of apple bobbin',
And some homemade apple pies.
Written for Isaiah Zerbst's contest -
"Apple Pickin' Time"
The work I did was playing with the angels
We read and painted, dressed up for Halloween as rangers
The Universe so close from dry, paper mache
With older kids we even wrote an Etheree
The work I did was traveling to Europe
With twenty of my students and an antelope
We colored windows facing the lights of Paris
and even opened a brasserie "Gateau de Bliss"
So, Carolyn, you made me smile opening this album
When asking "Where the Wild Things Are? " Ka-boom!
Again it's "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs"
...but empty are long gone Elementary School halls...
Teeth for corn in yellow molars.
Green-leaved ears entwined.
Stalks of husks for backbones.
Layers wrapped in rind.
Goblins out to play.
Scarecrows in the field.
Hands with teathered grasses.
Wheat that's left to yield.
Moonlit yellow haystacks.
Straw in crooked threads.
Monsters in behind them.
Ghouls without their heads.
Pumpkins thick with pulp.
Orange and wet and ripe.
Stripes in fatty circles.
Stems bent like a pipe.
Halloween is here again.
Man puts on his armour.
Time to plow the field.
The man we know as farmer.
The night of the living dead is coming…
Take heed and lock your doors
The witch trains blow the whistles
As they leave the devils jaws.
He strikes the boilers on this night
He lets the witches catch his prey.
They dress as zombie’s ghouls and ghosts
But they are here to take you away
The witch trains come to take your mind
The bokor controls your undead life.
The devil sends the zombie’s
For undead flesh to hand out strife.
The zombie has no thoughts to own
He is controlled by higher authority.
So lock your doors on the night of the dead
Or the zombie will come and take thee.
Use your mind, the one God gave you
Put thoughts of good into your head
Revile the zombie that eats your brain
You don’t want to end up a living dead.
© GG 15/10/2013
In south Africa the .witch trains. were believed to be staffed by Zombie workers controlled by witches that took the night time passengers and turned them into zombie slaves.
In Vodou Bokor is a sorcerer that revives the dead and controls the mind.
My front door, the color of pumpkins
As a skeleton adorns the screen door
Jack-o-lanterns plenty about the porch
And spider webs exist upon the floor
Owl sits on the deformed tree in the yard
Filled with many spooky eyes in the holes
A scarecrow stands guarding my open gate
Cats, all black, run around looking for moles
A witch laughing sits in a dark corner
Moving to the sound of a passerby
We wait for the first sign of fearful kids
On Halloween night, I love it, no lie
The night was dark the moon in hiding, squeals and giggles around the streets
All the children dressed in costume begging sweets on trick or treat.
None dared to go to Lonely Street, no treat could entice them there
The legend of the cloaked man with a staff still lingered in the air.
The riches of the gilded street does not welcome Halloween footfall
Lonely Street would remain so, this year none would call.
The legend said the cloak-ed man glides along the street
None heard footfall, as he followed those indulging in trick or treat.
A blood curdling scream assaulted the ears, followed by another
Children ran and scattered, screams and tears they could not smother.
Along Lonely Street the cloak-ed man was heard to give a laugh
“Why scream my little ones?” in his hand he raised a staff.
“You are here to celebrate the waking, and walking of the dead
Come hither my little ones this is what tradition has said.
You dress as ghosts and spirits long gone, begging for some treats
But then when somebody refuses you, you trick them, that is weak.”
To do this on the night that we, the dead awake
You should surely know its time for us to teach you your fate…
I am here to collect all your souls, you will join us in the flesh
You celebrate and dress to please now you will visit the devils crèche.
He raised his staff high, his cloak opened wide
With a howling wind the children were blown inside
His cloak was full of all the souls of the young
Their screams were heard, to the night they clung.
No more was there a Halloween night in that area or surrounding
The souls on Lonely streets stay in and still their hearts are pounding.
The Cloak-ed man is waiting; he is waiting each year on Lonely Street
For the sound of children laughing as they dress as ghosts on trick or treat…
It’s near, it’s here you can feel and smell it too
Autumn has blown in; the air is worn out, not new
The decaying of the leaves fills the autumn breeze
Blowing free and fast it brings in the autumn sneeze…
Flu season has arrived with the decay filled autumn air
It’s not right we didn’t get a summer, it really isn’t fair
All the seasons strike a fear in someway for all of us
Winter snows, the north wind blows and makes you want to cuss…
Spring brings with it hay-fever, another sneezing season
Summer gives us sunburn, but we risk that for a reason
We all need the sun we bathe and wallow and breathe it in
But when the autumn reaches us, it really is a sin...
Dark nights swoop on down, just like a Halloween ghost
Winds batter us all inland and not only on the coast
Rain is ever constant, breeding fresh new bugs for flu
So autumn air is for the flu-jab, it’s now time for that to renew.
Contest entry for “Up In the Autumn Air”
Her jack-o-lanterns flicker in the room
Bringing that eerie feel to those who look
The witch cackles as she stirs her cauldron
An evil brew which inside looks like gook
The smell is terrible, she laughs with glee
She knows what this potion can surely bring
A curse to an entire town that shunned her
She’ll make each and every one of them sing
She clips a few hairs off of her black cat
Puts them into the boiling concoction
She zaps a flying bat, takes out its eyes
She makes it complete, spits in the potion
With an evil laugh she gets up and pours
Takes the brew and places it into vials
Knowing that each person in the whole town
Will suffer with pains and lots of trials
A deserted house awaits spirits to enter,
trapping whomever chances temptation.
Secret rooms align front and center,
hoping to give an antic sensation.
On the porch a jack-o’-lantern waits,
to scare someone with his ugly face.
Howling winds blow the rusty gates,
just in time for the black cats race.
Naked arms stretch for the moonlight,
planning to snag a witch on her broom.
Shadows hide in the blackened night,
waiting for Dracula to leave his tomb.
A dense fog cloaks the dank cemetery,
where the dead lie with rotting remains.
Rising to an itinerary of skeletal vary,
dragging their lengthy rustic chains.
Grizzly ghouls sleep in a stagnant swamp,
awaken only by sounds of screaming laughter.
Suddenly the leaves rustle with a stomp…
leaving a Halloween haunting here after.
Copyright © 2007 By Caryl Muzzey
Shapely to coarse green stem,
sitting alone; wanting to grin.
Patiently waiting for the take,
wanting Halloween to begin.
A few more weeks left to grow,
inviting; nestled in straw.
Children soon make their choice,
with little eyes in awe.
Fields abundant in orange hue,
serenading a season of rest.
Large or small or fat or thin,
any grab will be the best.
Cold winds blow just enough
to take its nipping bite.
Scarves and hoods, snuggly warm,
fending autumn with wraps pulled tight.
Little arms try to carry
the most perfect pumpkin around.
The patch now shrinks very thin,
remnants of a once lush ground.
Copyright © 2009 By Caryl S. Muzzey
I went to a monster party,
At Castle Frankenstein;
With lots of food and spirit,
The fun kicked off at nine!
Ol' Frankie did the robot,
I stepped to a jitterbug;
The floor began to quake,
We really cut the rug!
I moved on to a sexy witch,
We slid across the room;
I broke down in a two-step,
While dancing with her broom!
I was jammin' to the Charleston,
The Werewolf joined in too;
Igor failed to fight the beat,
He danced without a clue!
Dracula did the tango,
I boogied with the Bride;
The Mummy looked bewildered,
As we did the electric slide!
I tap danced on a table,
Three zombies did the same;
I stripped down to my boxers,
They shouted out my name!
Jekyll was rather classy,
Wielding his futile pride;
When the music struck within,
He turned to Mr. Hyde!
The chandelier was shaking,
Skeletons hit the floor;
I danced to a rumba,
The crowd was wanting more!
Everything was peachy,
Oh what a beautiful night;
Along came the Invisible Man,
And started an awful fight!
He squeezed the Bride's booty,
Other ladies felt the same;
And when the dust had settled,
Guess who took the blame?!
Off went the music,
So long to our fun;
I had no other option,
But to tuck my tail and run!
Those who partied with me,
Were raising such a chatter;
The crowd was crying out,
"Put his head on a platter!!"
I aroused the little lady,
To an ear-piercing scream;
Hallelujah for a nightmare,
It was just an awful dream!
Was it really just a dream?
A thought raced through my head;
"Honey, I have a question",
"Why's that witch hat on our bed?"
White buffalo are sacred to Native American tribes
Symbols of hope and prosperity, to see one you are blessed
A cart filled with white pumpkins offers our dear friend who scribes
To her unique and loving heart this harvest does attest
A gift of spiritual grandeur we are offered freely
Marvel at its beauty and behold its great power
Choosing from this selection might be easier ideally
If we think of it first as a special Halloween flower
Share the wealth among us, our sweet friend always does
I pick one that catches my eye, matching her ivory skin
Much like a white rose’s beauty compared to others outdoes
I’ll venerate this pumpkin knowing her kindness lies within
*Entry for Carol Brown’s “White Pumpkin” contest
October 24 by Carolyn Devonshire
The Batmobile was ready
Four-year-old arms were steady.
His baby sister by his side
Cute and ready… Halloween ride.
Daddy was a fireman.
Mama was a nurse.
Stephen would be Batman
And remedy every curse!
Nana, Aunt, and Uncle
Would join the sidewalk rides.
Armed with hollow pumpkins
Mamas close by their sides.
A classy group of children greet.
To parties they may go.
Or down the roads for trick or treat
Young eyes shining with a glow –
Where ever life may lead them,
What ere the future holds,
Though memories at times grow dim,
Young days shape the childhood mold.
My wishes may be from afar,
But you are in my love, daily.
Grow faith, have fun, be a shining star.
I love you children; live life with glee!
To Two of my grandchildren
Love, Memaw, Dane
The sky has a glow, a hue of orange
That leads to the joy of jack-o-lanterns
Bats do fly through the air looking for food
And lights in the house come from small lanterns
Vampires prowl tonight as mere creatures do
Moon begins to rise by the edge of night
Looking orange as any other glow
Right before nightfall there is little light
The witch approaches the graveyard gateway
Carrying her cauldron with her laughing
Knowing that this night has special powers
She looks for spiders that do the eating
A pile of spiders find their way on her
She puts them inside her boiling cauldron
Magically her potion comes into view
She uses this drink to bring a demon
The beautiful creature goes with the witch
Into the night looking for some poor sap
To mess up his life completely before
Ruining all that he has this poor chap
The night starts to lose its bright orange look
Now is replaced with a deep purple glow
Color enhances this festive Halloween
The witch and the demon bring their own show
Accompanied by my black cat,
See me fly by the harvest moon,
With my broom and a black hat,
And singing an enchanting tune.
It will not do any harm,
To commune with the dead,
Using ancient crystals and charms,
And the rhymes within my head.
With an initial from an apple's peel,
And with these rites of incantation,
My rune stones will reveal,
What will be my true destination.
For the one I'm dreaming of,
I'll chant an ancient spell,
By the bonfire, with stars above,
And only for me my true love fell.
A brew within my cauldron boil,
I make an ancient magic potion,
Using fire, air, water and soil,
And filled with spirit and emotion.
Using herbs to cure the sick,
The witch's spell is almost done,
As I light the candle wick,
Helping all and harming none.
Dark clouds trying to cover the full moon
Creates an eerie feeling all throughout
An old farmhouse sits upon the great height
And haystacks sit down the hill and about
This is where the great fearsome scarecrow sits
Awaiting strangers that may come to view
Ravens fly about his glowing pumpkin head
Evil face exudes what it wants to do
When you come face to face with this scarecrow
Your days will sure come to an abrupt end
A scythe he carries he surely will use
And the ravens will take your soul to send
Owner of the farmhouse won’t mess with him
For the fear of death that’s within his bones
He works around him during daylight hours
Avoids him in the night within his zones
Scarecrow has more power in the full moon
And his alluring calls just isn’t right
The great pumpkin head scarecrow glows fiercely
He rules the dark fields, prowling in the night
Every night is Halloween
When ghastly ghost hovers near
I toss and turn in my dream
For I know the fiend I fear
Goblins and ghouls have no chance
I scare them all back to hell
Yet, one thing is viler still
I know its evil full well
Every night I shut the door
I shake while I lay in bed
For soon the door is ajar
A form hovers by my head
A eerie glow fills the room
Familiar breath on my face
Fingers slide over my lips
Unseen hands my body trace
Every night your ghost appears
You, who to my heart are DEAD
You come not as fearsome ghoul
But as angel to my bed
Your lies now you whisper sweet
“I am moved by love not lust!”
Yet I feel your groping hands
Stroking away broken trust
My bed is aflame with heat
You tricked, now you want a treat
I know your wishes full well
To bring to life passion sweet
I tremble in morbid fear
For you have come to possess
I buried your cheating heart
But ghost fingers now caress
You linger over my form
Your presence so very real
The night moves in ghostly charm
Every touch and kiss I feel
Morning light breaks through the night
I awake alone and bare
Halloween, my every night
Your scent lingers in the air.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
The glow of a jack o' lanterns light,
Walking among the fallen, dead leaves,
Vampire bats that are taking flight,
What a great night for All Hallows' Eve.
Sweet candy corn, cupcakes and chocolate bars,
Plastic skeletons rattling their bones,
A bright full moon among the cold stars,
Zombies roaming among the tombstones.
Girls dressed as fairies and ghosts in white sheets,
Kids in spooky costumes and monster masks,
My cousin and I couldn't wait to trick or treat,
And we never failed at our candy collecting task.
Mom putting a lot of scary makeup on my face,
A wicked witch with a broom and pointed hat,
Boys dressed as mummies and aliens from space,
The green glowing eyes of a curious black cat.
The haunted forest full of spooky owls,
Crisp caramel apples and a crunchy popcorn ball,
The chilling feeling of hearing werewolf howls,
And that mean little devil who scared us all.
Everyone almost wanting to get a good fright,
All of us quickly passing by the graveyard gate,
Lost spirits roaming on this dark, chilly night,
And getting home before it had gotten too late.
Caped grim reapers stalking the sidewalks,
Old, dark, haunted houses full of ghosts,
Steps and porches with pumpkins and cornstalks,
This is the one night that I love the most.
Do you ever feel like the world's a tuxedo
And you're a pair of brown shoes?
Have you ever felt you had two left feet?
Or the ship's already left for the cruise?
Please take heart, we've all been afflicted
At one time or another in our lives
There are those who appear a lot worse off
They forget to wear pants when they drive
There ain't no cure for this strange affliction
Embarrassing as hell, heaven knows
Walking across the floor at the prom
With your dress tucked up in your hose
Out for a walk, met my cranky old boss
He was taking his dog for a stroll
Chatted and then after saying good luck
Turned and smacked into a pole
Or when you attend a Halloween party
You're the only one dressed up in the room
Then you realize it was a black tie affair
But you're dressed like a pregnant baboon
Just dig a deep hole and climb down inside
Hope nobody notices you're gone
Don't come out until four in the morning
Slink home by the first light of dawn
© Jack Ellison 2012
Quatrain Poem (23 Stanzas)
Halloween Story-by Trevor McLeod
As a child I remember well
how Halloween would interest me.
When school would end and I'd head home.
The leaves ground low and chasing me.
The air was cool that I'd feel light
and scents of leaves gave strength.
As I would rush into the wind
and think of home in length.
Where mom stood by the counter
and tea sat on the stove.
It's cozy sending signals
in mom's eyes by the drove.
My father came in early.
The rush was on the night.
My parents and my sisters
excited by the plight.
Slow to reach the table.
Cautious in our manners.
We all sat down to supper
content as little planners.
Quick to leave the meal.
My sister first to flee.
We rummaged through our costumes
deciding who'd we be.
For clothing we had everything.
All we'd mix and match.
We thought of our ideas
for costumes that we'd hatch.
I knew already what I'd be.
I searched through clothes with zest.
Till soon I found a simple mask
then later found a vest.
This night I would be Robin.
A hero of the night.
The clever Batman's partner
who loved a challenged fight.
I almost had it all.
A costume near complete.
Until I saw the panyhose.
The thought that made me freak.
My mother shot towards them
strengthened by my choice.
Then boldly said she'd dye them
in green with full rejoice.
The time soon brought the darkness.
On time to trick or treat.
As anxious as we were
we're scared with lighter feet.
We stepped out in the cool night
fearing we're to early.
Then when we reached the second house,
began to walk more surely.
And surely was the way I felt.
Now floating in my tights.
Why Robin every wore a mask
was just one of those blights.
Free to leap to peoples doors.
The breeze between my legs.
A Catholic I thought quick of sin
while fast upon my pegs.
The time I saved as I could run:
in tights seemed nowhere there.
collecting candy door to door
not acting like I care.
The night went by in simple grace.
My leaping in light bounds.
Contributing to much more candy
and look some said astounds.
Arriving home when it got late.
My shame checked at the door.
I said that I would do it again
and shook right from the core.
I stepped inside with greater zounds.
My sisters home awhile.
All holding bags of trick or treat,
they dump them in a pile.
My mom and dad are quick to speak.
They warn us all of blades.
They tell us throw our apples out.
Don't take a chance in spades.
I dumped my bag out on the floor.
The kisses everywhere.
While not my favourite candy made,
I'll trade for something fair.
We chomped the candies for an hour
till bedtime saw us done.
We quietly slipped into our beds
all tired of having fun.
Then as I lay and start to think
how Robin lived with tights.
I remembered all the candy got
with speed -and maybe frights.
We're having a white Halloween
as it snows to the brim.
Where the pumpkins lie buried.
Their candles going dim.
There's a cold spell upon us.
White frost on the vines.
Their stems peeking out
to ceasing our spines.
With sheets of white cotton
torn between branches.
Ghosts with black eyes.
Spirits in blanches.
Webs of white cotton
stretching the trees.
Home for a spider.
A place on the breeze.
Blankets of snow
covering the ground.
Spirits lay dormant
when evil is crowned.
Great, spooky feel from yellow-orange moon
Flows from the sky at the darkest of nights
Clouds at times try to cover the full moon
Leaving and eerie feel, with lots of frights
From the belfry fly a group of blind bats
Flies right at you, like they knew where you were
The old church has been abandoned for years
But there have been creatures that have lived there
Ghosts love this church, it’s near a cemetery
The light of the moon shines onto the church
Orange glow bringing fear into the hearts
Of any mortal that screams with a lurch
The beauty of the pumpkins on the steps
Being lit from inside and by the moon
An eerie glow transported from within
Casting glows that light up every known goon
Goons lead down the street on this Halloween
Sure lit by the moon, and its yellow cast
All the jack-o-lanterns light up the way
For all these creatures to reach you at last
I found a trail, one of lit pumpkins here
Which is leading up to the haunted house
I followed them as I am truly dared
Then rain started to fall, quite a good douse
Just then a werewolf howled in the darkness
While the full moon is unblocked by the clouds
I make it to the porch, there’s no kindness
Claps and bangs from inside are all aloud
Lightning flashes showing a great dead tree
On the dark side yard of this fearful place
There are seeming loud whispers wanting me
When I turned around there’s a fearful face
I run, as fast as I can, through the yard
Looking over my shoulder as I do
I then trip over some wood that is charred
And fall in a grave with a ghostly boo
I try to get out, screaming as I try
Fearfully knowing I might be stuck there
And I find some roots that gets me out high
Avoiding headstones now, I left my dare
There’s a full moon at Halloween this year
With characters being dressed up as death
Everyone loves to bring a lot of good cheer
While evil tries to go and take your breath
There are flying creatures that fly by night
Owls, ravens, and bats are to name a few
They love the full moon with lots of fright
Going all about scaring everybody and you
The haunted house which is upon a large hill
Is the most frightening place you’ve ever seen
A place of great fear, a place to give a thrill
All these things are on this night, Halloween
Pumpkin Pulp a hunger real.
Toothless meal a vomit fill.
Rumpy flesh to hold the meal.
Tasty strands of flavour seal.
Pits of seeds for spitting out.
White tidbits all hard and stout.
Strands of web to reach the heart.
Spirits strong where pressures part.
Fetch the scoop to scoop out goop.
Scrape the wall and cause it droop.
Oust the pulp on old newpapers.
Save the seeds to fry in vapours.
Pumpkins lit and glowing lanterns.
Angled eyes shine light in patterns.
Flickered smiles from waxy wicks.
Labotomys, the night of tricks.
Red eyes glow, stare at me in the shadows
Right near the jack-o-lanterns of the night
I can hear wicked cackling of a witch
As she stirs in eyes of newt for insight
On wooden fence walks a weary black cat
Not seeing my presence where I’m nearby
Superstition gets the best of me here
I shoo him off so I may not be shy
I approach the witch to rid of my curse
One I’ve surely suffered since I was born
I get behind her and try for her neck
But she vanishes into smoke, I squirm
I turn to walk away from this dark scene
When skeletons come up from the cursed ground
They all run to me, I’m frozen in fear
I don’t know what to do, I look around
Just then I’m grabbed by rabid skeletons
The witch reappears looking rather mad
Laughing she takes some of the potion there
Swallows it all, looking fearful I’m had
I can’t run, she comes to me with anger
Now quite serious is her torn up face
Black cat now hisses at my trembling feet
The next second I find myself disgraced
I am face to face next to the black cat
And I noticed, I too am a witch’s pet
I meow as I am cursed even more now
I hiss, hoping some petting I will get
Into the graveyard I walk all alone
Save the spirits that follow me at times
The gravestones show dates that are very old
Seems the church saw me and begins its chimes
All at once the ground does begin to shake
And up the ghosts and spirits come to fright
They scare me nearly to death, fly at me
My fellow spirits join them with their might
I run and hide behind an old dead tree
But the owl gives up my true whereabouts
And they all plow right through my lost being
Fear brings out my soul and I start to shout
I’m torn from my body, flowing around
They now force me into the ground alright
Into the depths of hell to burn always
Because I entered the graveyard at night