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Free Verse Halloween Poems | Free Verse Poems About Halloween

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

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Details | Free verse | |

FORBIDDEN

~ZOMBIE NIGHT~ 

WHINING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair
Bones slowly desert distorted resting homes
Ascension of the dead -Longing to live again 

Sands of desert flip the hour glass back
WHIMPERING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair
Bones slowly desert distorted resting homes 

Taking light from where evil stays 
Feeding away leaving behind a death valley zone
WONDERING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Moonlight vanishes to complete despair

Dead souls forsake the common land
Shadowing like Equinox light 
Walking corpse covered in rotten barren sand
WINDY WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND 
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
Echoes of the dead roam the air

Upright, forward broken taboo 
Searching for the perfect breath of fresh air
Sounds of symbols march the ground
Searching to find their missing heartbeat
WHISKING WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night


Ascension of the dead  -Long to live again 
Bones slowly desert distorted resting home
Moonlight vanishing in complete despair
Echoes of the dead roam the air
Rugged ruins crumble silent through the night
WHEN WHISPERS MOVE ACROSS FORBIDDEN LAND

by;PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

THE HOUSE OF SPIRITS

It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents,
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.
Witchery or voodoo’s domain, it is a place of salvation for
Spiritual challenged, listen to the beautiful music they make,
Singing within this their walled cage of brick and mortar, these
Ethereal victims lost.
Here in peace they wait for the light to find them, a waiting chamber,
Of the lords misstep souls, those whom walked off the righteous path,
Yet are not without redemptions wanton of need.
Wanders of limbo’s astral plain, seekers whom roam blindly until 
Finding a doorway threshold, then crossing over, into this the house
Of spirits.
A corridors slender passageway, a way stations layover for those tired
And weary travelers to rest until their final journey’s end comes for them,
Sanctuaries power house of the supernatural.
Behind these red doors dare not the mortal flesh clasp the gilded knockers,
For within are things of the unspoken variety, creature protectors waiting at
Bay for the stray intruder to wander forth upon this sacred ground.
Angels kindred brethren whom seek out evil, destroyers patrolling the
Darker shadows for night stalkers whom wish to feast upon the forsaken.
But light’s white power is a mightier force to be reckoned with, and vanquished
Will the devils spawn into the depths from which they came, into the bowels
Of hell shall these demons be thrown into the blackened pit from which they came?
In the twilight’s ethereal hour, a mid-ways breaking point between light and dark,
A shimmering glow strikes this standing watch tower of abandonment’s forgotten,
And heaven’s flood gates are opened unto them, calling these the lost upwards
Towards nirvana and at last know true peace.
It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents.
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.

BY; CHERYL ANNA DUNN

 

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

HALLOWEEN FUN

HALLOWEEN FUN

Carving the pumpkin, oh such fun
How they danced when dad was done

Twisted mouth with large, black eyes
To scare the kids, then pumpkin pies

Hear those darlings on the street
Tiny fingers, tiny feet

Soon they’ll ring the bell and shout
“Trick or treat.      Hand outs!”

But see old moon, he’s hanging high
A big gold searchlight in the sky

Just peeping o’er, the sun has set
With rosy, glorious hue, and yet,

A solar quake now rumbles forth
Spewing flame toward the earth

Those fiery rays have stirred the dead
The night is bright, the moon is red

Check the time – it’s nine o five
Jack O Lanterns come alive

Oh, how they cry, each frightened child
Belegged pumpkins running wild

I’ll tell you how kids went to bed
Twas in the ground without a head

Those empty gourds were hearty fed
The night was cursed, the moon was red

Moo haha!    haha!   haha!   hah OH
Haha!     haha!     haha!    HAH!

Dave Austin

Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

THE VAMPIRE

For I am death, the personification of pure evil,
The grand godfather, of legions of unnumbered generations.
Behold thy disciples, baptized beneath my crimson waters,
Of blood.
Then reanimated as the living undead, in mine own image,
These are my forsaken children of the Night.
Kissed by the angel of death, I'm resurrections insurrection,
Spawned in hell a creature devoid of heart or soul, yet do I
Exist, biting at the exposed throat of humanity, leaving it
Drained completely dry.
Does not the white lily turn ember red, within this the
Valley of damnation.
My throne is a black coffin gilded in golden refinement,
Residing beneath the wooden lid, the beast sleeps,
Waiting to be embraced by the darkness of night.
Slowly, emerging from mine cryptic mausoleum,
I'm famished for the taste of the living essence
Of mankind.
A gentlemen reaper of the fallen, deeply do these
Fangs penetrate into the soft flesh of humanity,
Tis a dark blessing's supernatural gift, have I been 
So given, to take life then to restore it.
Raw beasts of instinct, clinging to the ethereal
Moon, that hangs above illuminating this,
Our unholy abyss.
Welcome to a shadow nation of the unseen,
Whose roots extend backwards, to an older country’s
Unconsecrated soil, called Transylvania. 
On mine legacies crest, a red dragon with talons
Extended reaches out, grappling for powers control.
For I am Dracula, born of royal blood in life,
But in death I am a king, let these castle walls
Bleed on forever, and the hounds of hell,
Sing outside my rod iron gates.
But beware mortal flesh if you so enter,
For I will enjoy every trespasser,
Whom dares to venture within my
Sacred territory, with a fiendish smile
Upon my hungering face.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Halloween's Evil Visage Cometh

Halloween’s Evil Visage Cometh

Halloween’s Evil Visage Cometh now alive in this famous predestined time
Where dubious shadow shades run a riot as the ghastly ghosts of darkness,
Begin calling to all goblins, ghosts, ghouls, and witches in the graveyards;
To come alive—as black cats call out their signals to all lost souls seeking, 
Powerful black magic spells to aid the spirits of ancient alchemists as they
Brew their potions to dull the senses and conjure all the evil spirits on Earth.  

A falling silver-layer mist appears as these uncanny evil spirits invade our
Mortal plane and lost ghosts appear as hungry human skeletons looking for 
Sustenance and seem to be horrified at the stillness broken by a death-cold.
They scream as bloodless fingers touch cold shivers without a warm heart; 
And who knows for sure the sad and mournful song from an ancient grave,
As “The Undead” conjure ravenous demons seeking warm blood to feast on. 

Blended into the dust are the crows whose shadows as a “Dark Phantom,”
Begin to form and take his shape—yet fear not the potent occult light as
That special Halloween Eve super moon beams brilliant and bright making  
Its presence known as your destiny and destination are already decided as
The Ancient Alchemist beckons all of us to drink widely from his mystical
Chalice of Darkness as all malice is reconciled—the birds and beasts speak.
 
Life as we know it is offered upon the Demonic Alter as the Dark Phantom
Initiates all human sacrifices as a drool-dripping envy of all existence drops; 
And the lustful and vengeance-seeking Vampires scrape along the walls as
Sharp poisonous thorns begin tearing behind their secret inner-vision as the 
Deep-dark and dismally-damp curtains open and eclipse the radiant dawn as
An unpleasant and horrible pain visits and our heartbeats grow faint and stop.

An unending agony screams sonorously as a deafening silence falls over us. 
In this “Land of the Dead,” they make their own laws overwriting all limits,
As a vile, creeping, malevolent mist crawls down into the valley deep below; 
The Devil's Advocate slithers on in a nasty, vicious way under your own skin,
As shivering timbers of truth of a living being watches outside our bodies on 
This Halloween Eve as our individual dreams enter the Twilight Zone forever! 

The Devil’s clever wizards and witches concoct an ancient poisonous mixture,
As the boiling cauldron of demonically-enhanced soup is stewed with care and 
Fresh toads, spiders, worms, beetles, ticks, and tiny black snakes are added in.
This unholy and potent poisoned soup from centuries past is now blessed by
The Dark One—to take life from the living and give nourishment to the dead,
As the veil between The Living and The Dead disappears on Halloween Eve!   

Gary Bateman, Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(October 1, 2015) (Free Verse)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

- Haunted Beauty -

 

The family had just moved into an old castle in Scotland; 
mother, father and their only daughter, Emmie, that they loved so deeply. 
Emmie was only 12 years old, and so innocent and beautiful. 
One night, she was woken up by a dripping sound; 
an echoing sound of water drops in a sink; 
rhythmic and terrifying. 
She sat on her bed, and suddenly appeared a free floating arc of strange light. 
It's that time of year again: Halloween night. 
Doors flew open and shut; strange voices and footsteps started. 
She was so frightened, that she almost threw up. 
Emmie made the sign of the cross, and plunged into a thicket of thorny wild roses. 
Terrified, excited and ready to run out of the house in 20 seconds, 
she overheard whispering words: "All beauty must die." 
The voice was so deathly, that it sent chills through her spine. 
It did not make it any better that it sounded too close to her ears. 
Her nightdress being torn by rose thorns like papers in a paper shredder, 
she ran as fast as she could; not back to the old castle, 
but away from the creepy voice, and strange events 
in the old castle. 
Exhausted, she searched for a place she could find rest 
"All beauty must die" the voice visited 
her unceremoniously once more. "What do you want from me? 
Is it wrong to be born beautiful? " 
she asked, wondering where she got her courage from. 
The energy to scream or run departed her, 
the moment she saw a woman dressed in white, 
levitating in the air, and moving towards her; 
a horrid face that carried the night's darkness, 
looked decayed, with worms crawling out from it. 
Remember this is a true story about Emmie; 
she gets chills just remembering the events of that night…… 





Contest: Halloween Co-Writes, By Diane Locksley

Poem Written by: Teddy Kimathi and Anne-Lise Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved 

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

- Halloween's Evil Visage Cometh -


Halloween’s Evil Visage Cometh now alive in this famous predestined time
Where dubious shadow shades run a riot as the ghastly ghosts of darkness,
Begin calling to all goblins, ghosts, ghouls, and witches in the graveyards;
To come alive—as black cats call out their signals to all lost souls seeking, 
Powerful black magic spells to aid the spirits of ancient alchemists as they
Brew their potions to dull the senses and conjure all the evil spirits on Earth.  

A falling silver-layer mist appears as these uncanny evil spirits invade our
Mortal plane and lost ghosts appear as hungry human skeletons looking for 
Sustenance and seem to be horrified at the stillness broken by a death-cold.
They scream as bloodless fingers touch cold shivers without a warm heart; 
And who knows for sure the sad and mournful song from an ancient grave,
As “The Undead” conjure ravenous demons seeking warm blood to feast on. 

Blended into the dust are the crows whose shadows as a “Dark Phantom,”
Begin to form and take his shape—yet fear not the potent occult light as
That special Halloween Eve super moon beams brilliant and bright making  
Its presence known as your destiny and destination are already decided as
The Ancient Alchemist beckons all of us to drink widely from his mystical
Chalice of Darkness as all malice is reconciled—the birds and beasts speak.
 
Life as we know it is offered upon the Demonic Alter as the Dark Phantom
Initiates all human sacrifices as a drool-dripping envy of all existence drops; 
And the lustful and vengeance-seeking Vampires scrape along the walls as
Sharp poisonous thorns begin tearing behind their secret inner-vision as the 
Deep-dark and dismally-damp curtains open and eclipse the radiant dawn as
An unpleasant and horrible pain visits and our heartbeats grow faint and stop.

An unending agony screams sonorously as a deafening silence falls over us. 
In this “Land of the Dead,” they make their own laws overwriting all limits,
As a vile, creeping, malevolent mist crawls down into the valley deep below; 
The Devil's Advocate slithers on in a nasty, vicious way under your own skin,
As shivering timbers of truth of a living being watches outside our bodies on 
This Halloween Eve as our individual dreams enter the Twilight Zone forever! 

The Devil’s clever wizards and witches concoct an ancient poisonous mixture,
As the boiling cauldron of demonically-enhanced soup is stewed with care and 
Fresh toads, spiders, worms, beetles, ticks, and tiny black snakes are added in.
This unholy and potent poisoned soup from centuries past is now blessed by
The Dark One—to take life from the living and give nourishment to the dead,
As the veil between The Living and The Dead disappears on Halloween Eve!   

Gary Bateman, Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(October 1, 2015) (Free Verse)

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Striking Deeply a Painful Reminder

Striking Deeply a Painful Reminder 

Striking deeply a painful reminder comes of you now.
Salt falls inside my open wound bringing untold pain.
My soul has one choice to make amidst all this pain,
Telling me the considered direction I must take now. 

Washed through a dirty ocean lining all foamed up,
We are frustrated with ourselves to no end today,
As we stand at the crossroads of our broken lives 
Asking sad, difficult questions and feeling all alone. 

Begging the wrong side for forgiveness is no fun as
We answer while looking upon two sides of a story; 
And a wounding confession of lights promises only
A flash darkness blinding out of a tragic haunted mist. 

Warm dawning radiant colors say love to us both now,
As they elicit a soothing and gentle compassion of hope;
Yet real tenderness is nothing but an illusion as deep pain
Lives inside the shadows without any remorse or apology.

Invading poison of a snake bite brings such sweet love, 
As your alter ego robs me of all my dignity and grace. 
I listen now to the stark tonal sounds of the seagulls, 
As they mix their cries over the ocean dark and deep.  

Kissing salted waves filled with the care of true angels, 
I cast now cruelly—bitter stones in the Garden of Eden,
While touching an apple once bitten never to shy away.
It’s funny how one can see such a tragedy in the daylight.  

Sacrifice a dove dancing within the light now turning dark; 
Behind the curtains a grotesque, ghastly face appears now
As the double side of your coin is exposed for all to see— 
And when flipped, the truth opens its book quite readily. 

Dropping down a snake crawls upon its soft underbelly, 
And behind the scenes people find this image repulsive,  
Since it portrays how a poisonous viper strikes fatally as
His very mask falls away for all to see his diabolical grin. 

Forbidden is the soul of who you are and want now to be; 
A sweet-talking deceiver I know too well for my own taste; 
One who really hides behind a false face but revels in his 
Deception as the dark demons mask their fear and cowardice. 
Dusk now blends into the night as death comes to life;
I realize now the hellish intent of Lucifer’s own demon
Who stares intently at me with his blackest of eyes—
I see my soul consumed now in the flames of Hellfire!

In my final strength and emotion, I drop to my knees:
Almighty God in Heaven—Save me now . . . Amen!

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 25, 2015 
(Free Verse)

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

THE HEADLESS HORSEMEN


On the black stallion of death,
Its red crimson eyes pierce through the night,
And the hell's beast breathes its hot brazen breath
Blazing against the darkness's chilling air!
Does he ride, this phantom of the dead,
Wielding vengeance's sword.
With one hand on the hilt of the blade,
The other arm reaching outwardly,
One finger pointing at his intended victim!
Screaming with a blood curdling howl,
Give me your head vermin, or I'll cut
It off myself, than laughing at their fear!
Beneath crimson fire moon, this hooded and caped,
Death's stalker, hunts down the innocent
Taking that which he desires the most
Their essence of life!
Run to the bridge's safety salvation lies
At the other end beyond.
For these waters cleansing baptism,
Could swallow him whole.
The headless horsemen cannot cross,
These blessed waves of sanctuary,
Or banished is he, hell bound for eternity.
This highway man, rides devastation’s
By ways, of the unknown.
Seeking to restore mind and body,
This Hessian with aggression,
Yearns for justices revenge, to what
Ends bequeath, he cares not, the price
To be paid, in human flesh and blood.
On Saint Hollows Eve, the horsemen
Gallops, across dead-man’s boundary,
Awaiting the stray trespasser, to trip into
His well-hidden trap.
Than striking without mercy's sake,
With its sharpened edge, steel slices
The mortal flesh, taking his prize,
The headless horseman rides away
Into the night.
Yelling, I'll return next Hollows Eve, be thee
So warned, for your salivations sake alone,
Don't tread in Sleepy Hollow after dark!.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The Locked Room

''Dark things happened there....''
they say, with fading tones,
almost reaching their vanishing point,
due to unhidden fright.

Sometimes they hear eerie moans;
see dancing shadows on the space
between the door and floor; other times
whispers that make them feel as though
they will shatter like hollow glass tubes.

To stop the haunting,
they hired spiritualists to seal
the room's door with their divine will.

Candles flicker in the night,
as voices of the undead wander across the corridors.....


Publishing Date: 25/4/2014

Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Joseph and Her

Joseph drinks on Wednesdays,
plays spades of gratitude for her rum,
his jars, her syringe:
a genie in his world,
a wishbone in her next.
Nothing's once
or everything happens at least twice:
disordered intellect-galactic-crack-jacket shotgun out-the-bed—
a morning when she played in the liquor cabinet
being green,
writing across her page,
steady with a trivial mind,
standing outside like a gipsy waitress,
rotating 'round like the marble-necktie
American doors,
bumming Marlboros
to steer clear of the odious bus-stop-thought.
Fur toothed canines slur their words,
him in his pinstriped, rundown suit,
banking on the upside-down fedora, 
her mouth a broken conch.

© 23rd May 2015

Copyright © Wesley T Cutlip | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

TENTACLES

In the heart of the blackest abyss, down, 
Down, in fathoms deep crypt, where light
Does not penetrate, and the structured protective hauls,
Of men, are crushed beneath pressures massive
Weight, of the oceans deepest depth.
This is truly inner spaces aquatic zone of the
Unknown, a realm of stilled silence frozen
In the icy currents of the barren straights.
Where prehistoric giants dwell, amongst the
Tidal flow, ambush predators, forgotten beasts,
From long ago, living krakens whom devour
All life, hidden within their dark domain.
In Poseidon's mighty anger, the waves answer,
To his fists of fury, hurricanes wrath of vengeance,
Gives birth to the perfect storms rage, 
Vessels rise and than fall in the tidal surging
Waters.
Nay do the sailors cry out to the Lord God on high, 
For redemption's salvation, but the sacrificial altars must
Be appeased, by flesh and bloods sacred offerings.
Summons does the mighty lord of the seven seas,
To release the last of the ancient Leviathans.
Two thousand hands, of a thousand dead men,
Heave and pull at the tethering heavy chains,
To this devil of the depths cage.
From within interments vaulted keep,
Captivities living spawn from hell, is 
Unshackled and released, to reek havocs
Devastation above.
An aquatic spider, a maritime widow maker,
Flexing and in-flexing, its body’s motions,
Towards the surface, in pulsations rhythmic
Orchestrations, the gray giant is ready to strike,
With its killing arms extended wide, to grapple
At its unprotected prey, to engorge itself with
All living matter that it surveys, within its icy reach.
As bubbles shoot upwards breaking the waters
Surface, suction cups and talon claws are drawn
Outwards, aligning his eight legged tentacles of bone
Crushing death, behold the Giant Squid, instrument of
Lethal torture, a living killing machine from the fathoms 
Deepest depths.
For it is the beast, the true essence of evil
Incarnate, and none survive its destructive wrath.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

THE GHOST TRAIN

Along the mountain pine valley did the Iron Horse roar,
A steam belching black demon, burning red hot coals
Within it's steel belly.
Speed's hell bound creation, driven by greed's insatiable hunger,
Faster, faster it moves at acceleration rush, to
Achieve manifest destiny's final arrival on time.
In the distance hear another lone whistle blow, spitting,
And spewing with brimstone's gray smoke.
This indeed is the devil's train, carrying the forsaken,
To the depot of no return.
With a half empty payload aboard, Satan makes a deadly
Judgment call, stoke up those engines boys, ramming
Speed if you please.
Made man beasts are these mechanical monsters
Of destructions, lethal death weapons, chained
Down to the steel rails, and iron pikes.
Ebony stallion's racing against the winds,
As redden sparks sizzle and bite at the crisp autumn
Air, bellowing fumes poisoning the night.
The engineer of the 10; 15 out of Tombstone,
Checked his pocket watch, speaking impatiently,
He did so yell out, come along fellow's, we have a
Schedule to keep, and we've hours behind in our dead line,
So let’s pick up the pace.
Now the devil's train came out of know where,
With hell's supernatural master at the wheel,
Heckling, and laughing, relishing in the carnage’s
Utter calamity to come.
On a lone chewed up mangled piece of track,
Lies wreckages debris blood, flesh and twisted metal,
Lain stewned for miles beside the wild wilderness.
Broken bones, and sheared off limbs, weeping mother's
Cradling limp, lifeless bodies, crying why, God almighty
Why?
But the lord and heavenly father, had nothing to do,
With this unnatural disaster, nay the devil had many
Empty spaces to fill, and his passengers list was lean.
So he leveled the crimson ground with his dark gavel,
Taking souls at high velocities supernatural speed,
For this is the devil's ghost train, and it is so
Hell bound.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

THE VAMPERIC PRAYER-DRACULA'S OATH

In the name of blood, for it is the source of life itself,
Plasma's crimson essence of liquid infusion, to the undead's
Pulsating heart.
Intravenously feeding cravings passion, through the carotid
Artery at the throat of humanity, thou'st not love, suffer
The pleasure indulge the pain, the out come shall be the same,
To be embraced by the black ebony arch angel of death,
Release thy darker side, let the instinctual behavior of the beast,
Know freedoms unshackling at last.
Become one of his sacred disciples, a creature of his dark dimension,
A kindred being, unto the legion of the night.
In the moon's elliptical light, shadows thus move from 
Left to right, shifting as transparent figures, phantoms of
Illusions, taking winged flight, soaring on the currents
Of air mingling with their ancestral brethren, the vampire bat.
Run does not the lone wolf, along the side path next to man,
As we do so walk amongst them, yet never attempting to belong.
Oh are we not the a shunned, the accursed, by a God known
For his forgiveness, to love all living things under
Heaven, but for us this mightiest of lords, turns
His gaze away, not acknowledging our existence.
Our we not his lost sheep, missing from his flock, why
Does not this Sheppard seek this black lamb’s wool,
Is it too coarse for weaving's wheel, as it spins thus
And is it not said that he created all life within his image.
Nay I pray this vamperic prayer, why has he abandon
Us, the darker of his creations.
Behold the unascended, begging to enter beyond the gates
Of light, children of the lost are we, seeking a father blind
To his responsibility.
Harvesting, by the basic instincts given unto us,
Taking only what we need to survive, for this he has turned
Against us, and thus taking the light of day with him.
So my father of damnation's hell, has offered salvation's
Darker domain as a sheltering harbor of comfort, I will not
Abstain his patronage.
For I am the ashunned, living by the moonlight's haunting glow,
Yet yearning to see one last horizons sunset, but the Holy Father,
Hears not my humble vamperic prayer.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Only Leaves

Only Leaves

Their numbers are overwhelming
golden and brown transversing my path.
I abandon every one in each step forward.

Green lives, lived,finally 
fallen to the battlefield of my morning walk,
some burning red, the last fire extinguished.

Others are dry and crisp,
burnt toast of maples,
drifting and rolling as Mariah scoots them.

Is it the wind;
or are these pointy little corpses
positioning for Halloween tricks?

Copyright © kathryn collins | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

SIN CITY-LAS VEGAS

On the streets of sin city, on the high roller's main drag,
Known as the Las Vegas Strip, a gentlemen phantom
Does stroll dressed in all black attire, striding forth with his golden Cain,
Flipping a silver chip into the air, and mocking at its power.
The devil's agent of deception is he, retaining a list of names
To collect upon, this gentlemen bandit of the forsaken.
He is here on the dark master’s behalf, ready to claim on
The I.O.U's signed by the greedy, and innocence fallen.
Quietly, moving amongst the crowded venues, he waits
Until his lord calls the name of the unlucky, to be reposed.
Dance do the neon lights, flashing towards pleasure dens of iniquity,
As ladies whom belong unto the night itself, offer their
Tokens of favor, for a working man's paycheck.
Black jacks twenty-one, cut those cards, and pass them out
The first timers dumb luck, will deliver him unto evil,
On this walkers dead man's list tonight.
Against the loaded dice, no soul is left unsanctified,
On the sacred green velvet altar, the wheel of fortune
Spins out of control, then hitting the baccarat tables
Wooden wall, someone screams snake eyes. 
Then all is lost, faded are the dreams of illusion, melting away
Into the harsh desert soil, along the road side leading to sin city.
Beneath the arid sandy duns, lies the grave yard
Of the unknown unidentified, a missing persons
Smorgasbord of the rich and infamous, lying right
Beside, the unreported poor man corpse.
This is the Grim Reapers play ground, taunting
And tormenting, those begging for redemptions
Last chance to gain a reprieves pardon.
But when tapped by his golden cain of death,
Your life's essence has wagered it's last bet,
To the winner goes the spoils, and now you
Belong unto the devil.
People say what happens in Vegas stays
There, and rightly so will he agree, with his blackened
Heart and soul, for after all is this not
The capital of hell on earth, known as
Sin City, Las Vegas, Nevada.
The populations of the undead just added
Another’s names tally and the gentlemen
Dressed all in black, is sent a wandering
Again amongst the crowed streets, to claim
Another victim in the dark master’s wrath of
Vengeance.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

BLOODY MARY


In the flickering of the ethereal candlelight, as the greenish blue flame
Burns dimly against the ancient mirror of reflections, the necromancer
Chants in rhythms rhythmic undertones, stirring the rippling pools of
Illusions, between the divisions of altered states of realism, and the 
Foggy vaporous mists in the domain of death itself, to summons
A creature of the unboned, the undead, a mistress of pure evil
Bloody Mary!
A disembodied supernatural thing is she, whom walks with
The flowing gown of bloody, dripping with the crimson fluid
Of living deceased, yet stilled warmed with the liquefaction
Of life itself, maneuvering within the shelled frame of
Her mirror prison!
Screaming is the twisted form within the glass, cursing at
Those for whom have commanded this apparition appearance,
In threes thou’est called upon me, Bloody Mary, so shall
Thee die in thus ways, each at a different edge of torment!
The table shakes beneath the necromancer, as the circle
Of hands are broken in fear!
Cackling in laughter’s glee, the distorted face within the
Mirror crackles her prism of shattered shards, stepping 
Forth from the portal open by the unskilled hands of 
The innocently blind, unable to move these maidens
Of curiosity, are spelled bound, mesmerized beneath in
 The hypnotic effects of this supernatural altered being
Of power!
In wickedness’s cruelty the predator inspects her living
Quarry, sliding her icy pronged nails underneath their
Pulsating necks, one by one, nay don’t worry my tender
Victims of distained fate, Bloody Mary proclaims,
With her frosty chilling breath of death, steaming against
 The hot summer heat of night!
To the victory goes the spoil of life, does it not, again she
Blasphemes at these lost soul of light, as her gown sizzles
To be feed with bloods flued of life’s sustaining
Essence!
The necromancer shuddered at Bloody Marys
Clammy touch, so in response the sharpened edge
Of the silvery nail cut ever depth into exposed bare
Flesh, causing instant deaths recoiling!
The second daughter of humanity, screamed in trembling
Fear to you my dearest, the hangman’s noose, to shut
Thy voice for all eternity, and thus Bloody Mary, did so
With the ravishment of pleasures tormented, smiling!
The last shall Mary said, will be the most savored for mine
Own desire, your soul I’ll thus feast upon for all eternity,
As the dress of doom sizzled with sheer pleasures delight,
As the emerald candle blow out, and the night
Wind screamed for its final time!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Dedicated to Poet Destroyer







Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Just Another Boogeyman

There’s nothing all that scary about a jack ‘o lantern. It’s just a hollow pumpkin with customary mouth, nose and eyes carved to form the usual wry face. . . Imagine that same pumpkin on Halloween night - lit up on the porch of some dark and eerie lonely worn out house. And there’s no one there but you! You approach the door but get a strange vibration this is not a house for trick or treating! No one seems to be there, and yet. . . as you turn to go, you are sure that you can see writhing worms and cockroaches come crawling from the flashing eyes and the grinning orifice of that pumpkin face. And you can almost swear, as your skin turns into goose flesh, that you hear that bad Jack snigger, his bright eyes trained on you as you rush off. As your mind races with its morbid thoughts, your feet start racing too, for all this is born from your imagination. He is just another boogeyman, and he’s laughing at the humanness in you.

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT


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!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

VAN HELSING


A gentleman dressed all in black, hides amongst the shadow realm,
This inquisitions exorcist fights on the altar of justice
And faith, a white knight of the elliptical moon, defending
The mortal souls of humanity, on this thin veil
Between right and wrong!

So speaks the Vampire:
Yes we know of him, this defiler of the unsanctified tomb, the slayer of
The unrighteous soul, this doctor of doom, blasphemer to the powers
Of the supernatural, he enters the pitch dark paradise of my
Fathers sacred blackened temples, killing without mercy’s pity,
Those to helpless, and to weakened by hungers blood thirst, and left
Unable to defend themselves against him, this is the so called
Right hand of your Lord God!
Van Helsing, he’s know profit or saint, to what church or God
Does this mortal owe allegiance, is your Lord of divine love, so
Willing to see blood flow, than what makes him so different than
Our dark father, nay what gives this single man, the right to destroy,
That which took centuries to build, blood ties legions eons to infect, with
The poisonous evil of vampiric venom!
Weep do not the black angels of death, for their undead children
Of the night, oh cry mother vampire, as she pulls the crimson shrouds,
Over the mutilated corpses of her fallen young, swearing vengeance by the
Setting sun, in the twilight hour thy will be done, in hell or heaven, revenge
Shall be yours!

THE BATTLE:

In the Transylvania hills, a carriage rolls along at a break neck pace,
It races against the last rays of moonlight, into the rising sun beyond.
Behind the black coach a creature of darkness follows, not realizing death
Lies hidden within, it is Van Helsing!
Come thus daughter of darkness, meet your demon releaser,
Purification's baptized bat exterminator, let me cleanse your evilistic
Undead soul, by the power of the silver stake through thy
Unbeating heart!
But this she-vampire only knows the sorrow of the loss of
Her children, it drives the madness of revenge towards
The light of self-destruction, and waiting at the other end
Is a gentleman dressed in all black, who laughs at her pains
Agony!
The coach suddenly stops, and Van Helsing steps forth,
Enough of this cloak and dagger, I’m ready for you mistress of evil,
Come and meet your maker, by my mortal hands, so fast
In her flight the bat is entrapped, unable to slow down!
One shot it only took one shot, of a stakes silver arrow
To plunge through her broken heart, as the sunrise
Cascades through the forest trees, she the vampire
Screams why, have you done this unto me and mine
Kindred, Van Helsing, why?
Crawling across the ground as an animal defeated,
The bloody impalement oozing, dripping with the
Crimson fluid of life eloping forth, raising her
Fists of anger towards him, why she yells
Once again, why, than crumpling on the dirty
Soil of her childhood birth!

Van Helsing speaks:
Coldly saying its nothing personal child of darkness,
As the sun’s rays tare and singes at this poor
Creature crumbling before this death stalker,
This white knight of the elliptical moon,
Named Van Helsing?

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

MY PRETTY POLLY


Made is she of the finest porcelain, that daddy's
Money can buy, with soft raven tresses, and blue
Hued shining eyes.
My pretty Polly baby doll, has a hand painted on
Smile, and long curly eye lashes, that bat and blink,
When one is not watching her, my cleverest of play
Mates is she.
You must understand one thing perfectly clear, dear
Friend, my pretty Polly is no ordinary standard toy,
Yes, I fully know that children have a vivid imagination,
But sir or madam, I've seen it for myself, and felt her
Malevolent presence.
At first it was fun, playing these haunting games,
A trickster’s paradise, she'd laugh and giggle, with
Fiendish delight’s pleasure.
But I'd always get blamed for the mischief, she'd get
Us into, so I decided that I wouldn't play with her anymore.
So I tucked my pretty Polly in a trunk, in the upstairs attic,
And locked it up good, and tight.
Later on that very same night, when I took off my slippers,
And said my prayers, I snuggled beneath my comforting covers,
Then beside me I realized in sheer terror, there she did lie,
Smiling back at me, with those great big blue eyes.
In the quiet and stillness of my very own bedroom,
She did so whisper in a gentle sadistic voice, cuddling ever
Closer to my tender year’s youthful ear, don't ever do
Something likes that ever again.
This is when I lost my childhood innocence, it was then
That I realized the true matrix of our relationship, that I
Was Polly's pretty playmate, not the other way around?
Time passed by slowly after this earth shattering event,
Deadly tea parties, hurtful games of hide and go seek,
Until one day she turned her delicate porcelain face
Away from me, announcing in a curt and mischievous voice,
I'm rather quite bored with you.
The next morning when I awoke she, my pretty Polly
Baby doll had gone, never to be seen again.
When questioned by my Papas, about her whereabouts,
I gave him the same chilling smile, which this haunted
Doll my pretty Polly, had given me time and time again,
Well I'm not sure, she's lost my dearest father.
Oh that's a shame my little child, would you like
Another one to take her place, no I replied, a hug
Will do instead, just fine!!!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Striking Deeply a Painful Reminder

Striking Deeply a Painful Reminder 

Striking deeply a painful reminder comes of you now.
Salt falls inside my open wound bringing untold pain.
My soul has one choice to make amidst all this pain,
Telling me the considered direction I must take now. 

Washed through a dirty ocean lining all foamed up,
We are frustrated with ourselves to no end today,
As we stand at the crossroads of our broken lives 
Asking sad, difficult questions and feeling all alone. 

Begging the wrong side for forgiveness is no fun as
We answer while looking upon two sides of a story; 
And a wounding confession of lights promises only
A flash darkness blinding out of a tragic haunted mist. 

Warm dawning radiant colors say love to us both now,
As they elicit a soothing and gentle compassion of hope;
Yet real tenderness is nothing but an illusion as deep pain
Lives inside the shadows without any remorse or apology.

Invading poison of a snake bite brings such sweet love, 
As your alter ego robs me of all my dignity and grace. 
I listen now to the stark tonal sounds of the seagulls, 
As they mix their cries over the ocean dark and deep.  

Kissing salted waves filled with the care of true angels, 
I cast now cruelly—bitter stones in the Garden of Eden,
While touching an apple once bitten never to shy away.
It’s funny how one can see such a tragedy in the daylight.  

Sacrifice a dove dancing within the light now turning dark; 
Behind the curtains a grotesque, ghastly face appears now
As the double side of your coin is exposed for all to see— 
And when flipped, the truth opens its book quite readily. 

Dropping down a snake crawls upon its soft underbelly, 
And behind the scenes people find this image repulsive,  
Since it portrays how a poisonous viper strikes fatally as
His very mask falls away for all to see his diabolical grin. 

Forbidden is the soul of who you are and want now to be; 
A sweet-talking deceiver I know too well for my own taste; 
One who really hides behind a false face but revels in his 
Deception as the dark demons mask their fear and cowardice.
 
Dusk now blends into the night as death comes to life;
I realize now the hellish intent of Lucifer’s own demon
Who stares intently at me with his blackest of eyes—
I see my soul consumed now in the flames of Hellfire!

In my final strength and emotion, I drop to my knees:
Almighty God in Heaven—Save me now . . . Amen!

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 25, 2015 
(Free Verse)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

THE HAUNTED BRIDE


In the night's chilling air a phantom figure, drags itself from
The watery edge of the river bank, emerging, rising upward
From beneath the moonlight's illumination, she is free, to walk
The earth's spiritual plain of existence once more.
In soaked layers shifts, of tatters whiten lace, the corporeal
Image moves across the old chapel's courtyard.
Slowly this deaden heart of the betrayed, shuffles through
The fallen autumn leaves, crunching them under the weight, of
Her drenched wedding gown.
The haunted bride, carries a wilted bouquet of for-get-me-nots,
As she weeps, walking down the aisle of past regrets.
This virgin maiden, sounds a low mournful sobbing, that echoes
Against the marble ruins, of a dilapidated church steeple.
Lifting skeletal limbs, step by step, this bride of
Desolation climbs unto the threshold of condemnation.
Her wailing screams grow louder, and louder with each
Movements, begging, pleading for salvation's penitence.
But in the Lord's realm, the haunted bride has violated the sacred
Laws of God, so is she doomed for all eternity, to repeat her final,
Moments of life.
Wearing the veiled shroud of death, beauty's once fare,
Is nothing more than illusion's shadow vision of the forsaken.
A victim of abandonment's fall from grace, for consumed by
Sorrows pain, did she take her own life, in limbo she is the accursed.
Slowly descending in sheer remorse, her tears cascade
Downwards, staining the holy soil therein, her unkempt train
Trails behind this ivory phantom, with muddy green
Seaweed woven amongst the antique lace.
Cold watery waves crash against the murky shore,
A foreboding eerie mist lingers up top the rippling lake,
One last air's stale breathe she does inhale, as again life's
Essence leaves, become just exploding bubbles,
Popping at the water’s surface.
Here the haunted bride so does rest, in a fathom's aquatic crypt,
Beneath the dark abyss of no return.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

SPOOOKEEE

SPOOOOKEEEE

Lost in the woods
On All Saints Night
Chill in my blood
Moon’s a fright

Its ring around
Is red as hell
And distantly
The doomsday bells

Eerie bongs
Tis truly said
One short    two long
Will wake the dead

Hark those strains
The dies irae
Tell of pains
On judgment day

Oh where to go?
At last I fear
The rooster crow
No more I’ll hear

Dave Austin

Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Halloween's Evil Visage Cometh

Halloween’s Evil Visage Cometh now alive in this famous predestined time
Where dubious shadow shades run a riot as the ghastly ghosts of darkness,
Begin calling to all goblins, ghosts, ghouls, and witches in the graveyards;
To come alive—as black cats call out their signals to all lost souls seeking, 
Powerful black magic spells to aid the spirits of ancient alchemists as they
Brew their potions to dull the senses and conjure all the evil spirits on Earth.  

A falling silver-layer mist appears as these uncanny evil spirits invade our
Mortal plane and lost ghosts appear as hungry human skeletons looking for 
Sustenance and seem to be horrified at the stillness broken by a death-cold.
They scream as bloodless fingers touch cold shivers without a warm heart; 
And who knows for sure the sad and mournful song from an ancient grave,
As “The Undead” conjure ravenous demons seeking warm blood to feast on. 

Blended into the dust are the crows whose shadows as a “Dark Phantom,”
Begin to form and take his shape—yet fear not the potent occult light as
That special Halloween Eve super moon beams brilliant and bright making  
Its presence known as your destiny and destination are already decided as
The Ancient Alchemist beckons all of us to drink widely from his mystical
Chalice of Darkness as all malice is reconciled—the birds and beasts speak.
 
Life as we know it is offered upon the Demonic Alter as the Dark Phantom
Initiates all human sacrifices as a drool-dripping envy of all existence drops; 
And the lustful and vengeance-seeking Vampires scrape along the walls as
Sharp poisonous thorns begin tearing behind their secret inner-vision as the 
Deep-dark and dismally-damp curtains open and eclipse the radiant dawn as
An unpleasant and horrible pain visits and our heartbeats grow faint and stop.

An unending agony screams sonorously as a deafening silence falls over us. 
In this “Land of the Dead,” they make their own laws overwriting all limits,
As a vile, creeping, malevolent mist crawls down into the valley deep below; 
The Devil's Advocate slithers on in a nasty, vicious way under your own skin,
As shivering timbers of truth of a living being watches outside our bodies on 
This Halloween Eve as our individual dreams enter the Twilight Zone forever! 

The Devil’s clever wizards and witches concoct an ancient poisonous mixture,
As the boiling cauldron of demonically-enhanced soup is stewed with care and 
Fresh toads, spiders, worms, beetles, ticks, and tiny black snakes are added in.
This unholy and potent poisoned soup from centuries past is now blessed by
The Dark One—to take life from the living and give nourishment to the dead,
As the veil between The Living and The Dead disappears on Halloween Eve!   

Gary Bateman, Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(October 1, 2015) (Free Verse)

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

OH HOW I LOVE HALLOWEEN - FOR GHOST CONTEST

I hear the doorbell ring and I rush to answer it The heavy wooden door creaks and squeaks and groans My face is a ghostly white, you can only just see my eyes and mouth The children scream loudly and drop their bags of sweets in fright Terrified they flee down the path not pausing to look back I grab their sweets and quickly slam the door I dash to the bathroom Twenty minutes is up and its time to wash off my face pack Hee hee hee it works every year 5th October 2014

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Halloween Night

Across the land he strides this night,
Amide the living and the dead.
He goes confidently in search of a fight,
Harboring no amount of dread.
He seeks those going bump in the night,
Including the living dead.
Cross bow at ready with hidden knives,
He’ll clear this land he’s said.
Wow to the wicked on Hallows Eve,
Be careful as you run amuck, and hide wherever you will…
For Van Helsings aim is straight and true,
As is his beating heart, a rare few have ever imbued.
And of course those magnificent fighting skills…
No one can ever outdo.
Consider well your choice of path between evil and the good,
For Van Helsing’s waiting right ahead…
To take good care of you.


Contest: Halloween Night
8-22-2012

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

the nun and the witches last walk

Even though
It was so long ago
It still holds the place in my heart
The one I reserved for special moments
with him 
The times before his health
got the best of our relationship
Back when my grandpa 
was able to be my 
grandpa

It was my first parade
and one of his last
The Halloween of
2006.

There was
tigers
and lions
and bear
oh my.
but there was also the usual
witches, and monsters
but most importantly
there was my grandpa.

He volunteered to help
with the small monsters
of classroom 301 that year
which would also be his last 
so he was able to walk with his
even if he kept stopping 
to pick up candy 
along the way.

walking with him
along the crowded streets
past the sirens of the firetrucks
and over the steep hills
will forever beat any memory
of 
trick or treating
passing out candy
or the endless Halloween parties

for that was just a moment to enjoy
now that his old age has hit him
hard
there's no more walking
no more dressing up for Halloween
just to see a smile on the face of 
his grandchildren
his little monsters

That moment will forever hold my heart
ten years ago was
the last time 
this witch
had her
nun 
of a grandfather
walk beside her   





 

Copyright © Alexis Hogg | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The BOOGIEman

I creep in at night,
     When all lights are out.
While you peacefully sleep,
     When no-one’s about.
No stars in the sky,
     No fresh baked bread.

Only you,
     Me,
     And my breath on your neck.

Hush now child, go to sleep,
     For tonight you will dream,
     And I will creep.
Through cracks in your walls,
     Or holes in your floors.
It matters not, I have trained on scores.

I cut my teeth,
     On bedposts,
     And springs.
I sharpened my claws,
     On cradles,
     And dreams.
I perfected this dance,
     Each child,
     Each fright.
I hope to dance with you, child……..
     TONIGHT!!!!

Copyright © Jacob Bellville | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Halloween Night

It's October 31st and the goblins are spilling out of the street
with their scurrying little legs sprinting nervously
They're like a bunch of daddy long legs stretching out limbs in the dark
They ring every doorbell and holler Trick Or Treat
as they hide behind creepy masks and  flash two beady eyes
Pillow sacks overstuffed to the rim grow heftier with each candy plop
and the sky gets darker and darker until it turns into a purple menace
Streets grow more vacant with every passing hour,
and soon there will be only a few stragglers left wandering
in the dark corners of"THE Old Knock-ville Cemetery"

The dark ones are the only ones hooding round the silent gates
They're known around town as "The Black Cobras"  they dress in black  
terrify the kids and disinter the cemetery ever year just for kicks
But not this year, there is a ghost who hasn't quite been put out to pasture
yet.  His bones rattle in the night and the old caked dirt turns to fresh mud
as "The Beagleman" comes out of the grave wearing devil horns and a forked tail    
His  tombstone carries an insignia which reads,  "Dead But Not Gone"

 Like a big tough boy John begins to chisel away at the insignia, and all  of a sudden
he feels a hand grabbing him.  The ground begins to shake and he loses his balance
as he begins to sink.  The other boys get scared and run off, leaving John to fend for
himself.  

John was never seen or heard again.  There are rumors around town that the following
morning when the Cobra boys went back to look for him, they found his old leather
jacket strewn atop the tombstone, and a note inside the pocket which read,
"Don't worry boys, your turn's up, next...."

Of course the only surviving Cobra is now 82 years of age and living in a nursing home.
When Halloween comes around, he just sits by the window and stares stone faced
at the flickering lanterns and weeps a solid tear of sorrow. 

The End...

Copyright © Mystic Rose | Year Posted 2015