On Halloween
On Halloween the sky was scarred.
The blood moon peered with pale regard
(a gaze that pierced the pit of night)
upon the spell of death and fright,
along a bone laced boulevard.
Though corpses crept from crypts unbarred,
the flames, they crawled in disregard
on roasting rot – a sanguine sight...
On Halloween.
The bones, they blanched within the yard,
because they sensed their evening marred
by ghouls and fiends who rip and bite
with claws and fangs which drip delight
while gorging flesh, so slightly charred...
On Halloween.
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012
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