Marked By the Black Pumpkins
The house was crooked with frightening angles
At the front door were several black pumpkins
Screeching is heard in the uppermost tangles
The house has ghosts that surely live deep within
The third floor seems to be the signature room
Where they collect and meet to spell out all doom
Late at night, in the wee hours they play around
It’s the spookiest building here within town
Russell Sivey
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
