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Best All Souls Day Poems | Poetry

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Details | All Souls Day Poem | Create an image from this poem.


A time for werewolves, zombies, bones,
For spiders, vampires, ghosts and bats,
Blood curdling shrieks and chilling moans,
Of walking corpses, witches’ cats,
See scuttling beetles, ghouls and rats.

Old warlocks chant and banshees cry,
The carved out pumpkins light the way,
And broomsticks soar across the sky,
As shrivelled mummies flaunt decay:
It’s Halloween or All Souls’ Day.

Copyright © jack horne | Year Posted 2011

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The deception of free verse Dreams II, Translation of L imposture du vers libre by Rene Etiemble

The deception of  “free verse”: Dreams II, Translation of Etiemble’s “L’imposture du vers libre” by T. Wignesan

“Free verse, free not to be verse” – Audiberti

My love is not blue like a lake
my love is not blue like a sky
but red swollen with blood
and of ire
No lapping sounds of oars
playing out a nocturne
Bienne lake or that of Bourget
ever beat out the loping of my heart
My love’s neither blue nor like a lake
nor like a sea of oil
In the cauldron of boiling oil
a witch throws in a thumb
and the formula
My witching love
sputters and bursts out
stinging these busts and this lip
Vehement like a she-demon
it dances in a mad whirl
My left temple
with the furious ocean
which rumbles under my pillow
What ships wreck in this sunken heart
still bleeding
of all the hearts it peeled
bleeding bodies of the young girl
And this heart weeps over its deaths
Like those on All Souls’ Day
the old hoary woman weeping
twisted up into wailing somersaults
which pad the cries of skeletons
clinging to rapacious granite
My heart beating on the pillow
muffles the voice of the friend
which begged the evening gone by
“Tell me it’s not over yet!”
And like the ocean cowardly
I collapse into my bed
to better listen to the tolling
of my temples and my heart
a delusionary
song of joy.

     Signed: Jean Louverné (pseudonym)
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2014 (Translation 

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2014

Details | All Souls Day Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Curl of smoky streaks
Joss stick messages;
Heaven bound


Temple visit
Feast day moments;
Talk to the dead


Bright Hill Temple
Where rites bring peace;
Family gathering


Temple verandah,
Spacious prayer courtyard;
Surreal this heaven


Closed eyes salute
An inner realm calls;
Spiritual insight


Here we gather
Offer our earthly harvests;
Poignant celebration


Briefly we come
Ply food offerings;
Gratitude tells


Columbarium niche
Earthly ashes laid;
Fond remembrance


All Souls Day
By parents' niche tomb;
Familiar voices speak


Echoes in hallway
Death talks in silence;
Life feels message


Poise in strange voice
Talking in my head;
Ecstatic insight


Brief is our time here
In-between eternities;
Grief comes too late


Songbirds sing
A rustic hymn;
Salute the dead


Flowers sparkle bright
Crimson, violet, orange hues;
Bourgainvillea vines


Hurl of midday sun
Casting odd silhouettes;
Deserted columbarium


Leon Enriquez
22 October 2014

Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014

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Me' II


Hey Pompeii

The Saint of the mom

Celtic Attire Green

You Green Eyed lover

Velveet Green Color

The House Of Greenish Blood

Live Your Best And Be Good

ha ha ha

Daughter Of Pompeii

Posideon's Poison

Green Eyed *****

Copyright © Shamira's Poetry | Year Posted 2016

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Bury me not in a gloomy yard
Shaded by the wall of a church,
Where graves look jaded and old
Their epitaphs veiled in smirch.

Lay me near some water’s edge,
Under leafy conifers tall,
Sheltered from the heat and rain,
Where twittering birds would enthrall.

Plant seeds of trees that flower
So their roots may grow unseen,
Winding across my jaded wood
Their probing relentlessly keen.

Let wiry creepers reach out low
To my grave in candid play,
For mourners a prayerful glance
When they visit on “All Souls’ day”.
May seasons weary trundle by
Their shadows across my yard,
My surreal self would wink at them
For being my soulful guard.

Germinating in a cradle brown
Pale green with a coloured hue,
Shall rise again with a radiant sun
Embraced by the endless blue.

Copyright © Amar Agarwala | Year Posted 2017

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(Dedication: In memoriam, for my late parents.)

Tuesday midday
In sunny fest;
Yearly memorial


Upon these grounds
Our ancestors sleep;
Here flowers bloom


November third salutes
Light pairs of twin candles;
Muffins and plum wine


Spring clean red onyx
Gold-lettered tablet;
Feel short prayer surge


My parents sleep
Beyond worldly cares;
Peace beyond pain


Here side by side
At last you rest;
In that sure light


The living come
To greet the dead;
All Souls Day ritual


The candles burn
Muffins we eat;
Plum wine we toast


Muffins for mother
Plum wine for father;
Till we meet again


We think fond thoughts
Death ends brief book;
True living continues


The reaper says:
Live well your days
Ere death ends play


Leon Enriquez
08 November 2015

Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2015

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The Haunted Farmhouse

A country weekend I felt, would be just great and so I rented a house in the country where, I could be alone in the quiet and just be creative. Sleep eluded me that first night; I didn’t recall so much noise in the country. I knew the night time creature calls but, then I heard footsteps; someone was in the house with me. I reached for my cell but, found it had no signal. Creeping to the bedroom door, I turned the lock but, heard footsteps on the stairs and a greenish glow appeared underneath the door; it seemed to hover there, several minutes then vanished. I couldn’t believe, the footsteps went back downstairs. I heard them no more but, a squeaky back door told me, the intruder had left. I must’ve fallen asleep shortly afterwards and was startled awake by what sounded like a gunshot. I crept to the window where, I spotted the green glow; it was shaped like a man and it was floating back towards the house once again! I shoved everything into my bag and down the stairs I ran; my car was out front and the thing was, headed towards the back door so, I dashed in bare feet to my car, slammed the door, hit the locks and turned the key. My bare foot floored the pedal and I was on my way. I stopped only when I reached open all night motel, just inside the town. Apologizing for my appearance, I explained the experience and rented a room. The clerk called to me as I started out towards the room; ”What you saw, Ma’am, was the Axe Man; he beheaded the former owners in their sleep!” The Axe Man had been killed while trying to make his escape; the police shot him just behind the house where I’d, last seen the creepy green glow. Suffice it to say that, I got little sleep. My next weekend would be at a more crowded motel and not in the secluded countryside.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2018

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IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE - Part Two - Continued

IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE - Part Two (continued)

     ( for sweet-teeth kiddies )

IF you pull a long face
And that too on Halloween Day
Mascara and rouge will drip on lace
And Mom will take your candies away

If you pull a long face
Not caring it's All Saints' Day
You're bound to continue losing face
If it falls on a hapless holy Sunday

Yet if you pull a long face
All-Hallows-Tide to All-Souls' Day
It matters little which way you face
West or East you'll rue the day

If you pull a long face
While for the Departed you pray
Under your masks to win them grace
Candies chocs will rain down your way

Yet if you pull a long face
Loads of paint the leer overlay
When the date with Fate unmasks your face
None here might remember you and pray

© T. Wignesan - Paris, November 1st., 2018 

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2018

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Never Forgotten

Candles lit to light their way
Honoring loved ones gone away
Remaining through hearts and memories a part of them will forever stay
For the deceased, this is their day

Sugar skulls galore on Day of the Dead
Celebrating the lives lost loved ones lead
Maybe they'll contact you upon sleeping in bed
Offering comforting words dancing through dreams in your head

Festivals and parades with abundance of Aztec marigolds throughout the day
Creation of alters gathering together at graves they pray
Favorite food dishes as gifts and possessions of deceased on graves they lay
On their spiritual journey they help guide them along their way

Some celebrate All Saints Day or All Souls Day instead
Everyone does things differently within their own home stead
Either way we all share similarities in honoring the dead
A piece of them will live on forever as they reside in our hearts and our head

Copyright © Melissa Tracy | Year Posted 2018