image from ar-inspiredpencil.com
Poem written for and submitted to “A Spooky Haunted Poem” poetry contest, Tania Kitchin, sponsor October 20, 2025.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Under a weird, pitch-black moon, the graveyard ghouls moaned a haunting tune. Old Edgar’s ghost (a CPA by trade) checked spectral spreadsheets in the shade. The haunting rates, he hissed, are too low— Only one faint moan per week? That’s woe!” Gertrude, floating around in her cobwebby dress, rolled her hollow eyes. Today’s kids! They're a mess! Last Halloween, teens just filmed their TikToks— They laughed at my chains! Ignored my death-knocks! Her wail, once chilling, now nothing but a squeak, like rusty hinges, dry and weak.
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