What monster has MAGA adored?
The Halloween “head” orange gourd!
As a carved pumpkin
Mad Trump with his kin
Score loot from their trick-or-treat horde
With a bit of a rasp you taste like twang,
I’m learning your history with each vowel.
True gentlemen will occasionally scowl
but desire blooms as low murmurs hang.
I’ve imagined some voices as whiskey,
buttery smooth yet yours is different.
A little off key but a sound so eloquent,
I collapse succumbing to your euphony.
An ancient bouquet aged for millennia,
once heard your echo rings in my head.
Resembling a fantasy born and bred,
you’re my vampire holding a candelabra.
Forced to lay every hidden desire bare,
did you know the power of the Devil’s cry?
I am forced to utter a stone silent reply,
‘That southern draw is beyond compare.’
Little
old furniture
something is a bit off.
The birth of a haunted dollhouse?
Painful.
This toy holds a ruinous past
no innocent should know.
Leave offerings,
or else.
Cars file in and pack this field tight,
at dusk the midnight show begins.
Popcorn addicts at the Drive-ins
howl and get wild opening night.
Looking to be fed a fresh fright,
that scene seen before will not do.
A monster comes to the rescue
before you know what’s happening.
No motive can be maddening,
that jump scare was past overdue.
Possessing that beauty of the final girl,
known to all as the queen of screams.
Exaggerated and full of dramatic flair,
she sees Samhain in a plain pumpkin.
Known to all as the queen of screams,
a harrowing silence often precedes her.
She sees Samhain in a plain pumpkin,
hidden scars come out with a dull glow.
A harrowing silence often precedes her,
even with lips painted sinful burgundy.
Hidden scars come out with a dull glow
fanning the ancestral spirit in the air.
Even with lips painted sinful burgundy,
the shadows obey and conceal fear.
Fanning the ancestral spirit in the air,
brazen belief is always at your back.
The shadows obey and conceal fear,
exaggerated and full of dramatic flair.
Brazen belief is always at your back,
possessing that beauty of the final girl.
I tell you this as death draws near
As a cautionary tale, but not to fear
I now believe that a notion ingrained in us not to be true
The moment when we pass the lives we lived flash on through
I became aware as it began not long ago
Tiny fragments swaying to and fro
It happens when sleep draws close, a vignette whirs into view
Little threads to tug at and pursue
Gossamer strings of whispers float on by
Ghostly visages flicker like lighting streaks in the sky
Moments in time come from our past
We awake and remember how much we had forgotten as the years have been vast
Night after night new instants play out
Until you realize without a doubt
There will come a time when all the images disappear
The end has come, the light winks out, all will be clear.
The letter l minuscule
Is taller than I majuscule
A.I.
Has more than one eye
Are you baffled or confused?
Are you troubled or amused?
A.I. is the elephant in the sky
Watch out for the evil eyes
A.I. was invented by zealous spies
A.I. is in the sky. A.I. is ubiquitous
Everybody is talking about this phenomenon
Nobody knows if A.I. is an angel or a demon
Yet, this bad boy or bad girl is complex and audacious
A.I. is flying high
Like a lie in the sky.
P.S. Leave AI alone.
Copyright © September 2026 Hébert Logerie. All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
The orchestra marches on in Gothic dark
The guitar brigade lights the night with a spark
The ***** angels with furled black wings
Take flight as the alto sopranos screams
The tenor tangent scratches the stage lights
The overloaded cannons shoot at the sky
And the backup witches writhe with the king snake
And the decibels start the earthquake
At the demon soiree plays each heart string
As the masses are swayed by each catatonic ring
And the charging bull, the rhythm section
Pounds to the misery of each predilection
Bombast and bomb blasts
I've not seen a crescendo like that
The smoke clears and the arena comes into view
With the bodies spent and strewn
And the vixens and sirens screaming
Like a queen who’s king died in the war
Splashes and crashes
As the debris floats to the shore
And the conductor (that ******)
Can’t keep a beat
The beast has now had enough
As he begins his retreat
War torn and forlorn
The stage lights finally go out
But not before the medieval four
Sound the trumpet blast, Ahh! at last
Elizabeth Bathory Wakka
Was awfully good in the sacka
She'd jump on your face
And writhe with such grace
Then spit out her bright red tobakka.
as they
understand and
drive snorting
oxybenzene not
greatly unawares
of lightheaded
reflective breath
a spiteful
zombie confronting
again brainwashed
beret sociopath
unfalteringly abusive
handicap boloney
that parade
marches gloatingly
gutenberg freebee
would gratify
faulty ghost
with nonsweet
buttercup ooze
always demonstrate
rinse towel
you encounter
this reschedule
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 21–27, 2026)
The witches brew was real thick
Also, they needed a gullible trick
To season their brew
All the way through
Those bones they wanted to pick
On Halloween a ghoul
Grab me from behind
Dragging me to the graveyard
Behind an old church as
I kicked and shouted
Two men suddenly appeared
And attacked it, while I
Ran for my life but when
I stopped and looked back
The men had strangely disappeared
On Halloween the ghosts
Were in full view
Haunting and trying to
Catch you
A vampire looked around
To see how many victims
He could find, he saw
Two necks pulsing fast
So, he planned to jump their ass
Ha, he laid-in-wait for
His delicious date
So, as they walked out the door
He quickly slammed them to the floor
The two began to change
Into something that looked real strange
The poor vampire tried to flee
Not knowing that he was the key
To setting those creatures free
At dinner today,
My Mommy and
My Daddy
Were being weird
Instead of them
Usually being tired,
They smiled a lot
Too Smiley
And also
My Daddy made
The food today
Mommy is supposed to make the food
The food didn’t taste yummy
The food tastes yummy always
Mommy and Daddy
Are starting to be
Kinda
Sorta
Just a little
Scary
At night
When I got up
To tell them
I had a nightmare
They were not asleep
Mommy was just
Sitting on the couch
Wide awake
Daddy was smiley again
Too Smiley
Daddy and Mommy
Are starting to be
Kinda
Sorta
Super Duper
Scary
I don’t think
That Mommy
And Daddy
Are the right ones anymore
I saw them pouring
Saltwater on my
Flowers
The ones I got from Mommy
I’m scared
This Mommy
And this Daddy
Are not my
Beautiful
Mommy
Kind
Daddy
Where did they go?
Where Did They Go?
WHERE DID THEY GO?
I want them back
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.