creepy crawlers surrounded juicy Jack
whispering wicked missives, not having his back
he is feeling bullied, so leaves the pumpkin field
the corn is sad to see him leave with his sack, sealed
Jack’s sack has magic tricks that keep witches away
goblins, gargoyles and gravediggers will soon enter the fray
sharing Halloween antics, laughing until the light of day
come back Jack. Corn whispers can be heard down in the bay
Jack takes out his spells and elixirs and more
keeping his eye on the werewolf on the distant shore
green gooey glops of glycerin help him to disappear
he probably will not return to the field until the next year
a witch with a wise eye has seen what Jack has done
a magic elixir! she says, running toward it, for fun
The sack and its contents fade away into the night
Soon no evidence of it is anywhere in that old hag’s sight
DO NOT MESS WITH JACK
SCHMITT DID AND LOOKS LIKE A HACK
BRITT TAKEN ABACK
The squirrel stood before the jack-o'-lantern
as though attending a lecture.
Light spilled through the carved grin,
goldening his whiskers,
his paws,
the small gray fur of his chest.
The pumpkin gazed outward
with its permanent astonishment.
The squirrel gazed inward.
Neither moved.
For a moment,
the evening seemed to contain
two different kinds of mystery:
one illuminated from within,
the other asking why.
Do you know Jack London,
You, young poet from Brest,
You, old fisherman,
We need to extract so much ore,
To find a gram of gold,
Whether it is the call of the forest,
Or the people of the abyss,
Your soul will find this,
Do you know Jack London,
You, high school student of Saint Joseph,
You market gardener, you baker,
You, a journalist from Le Monde,
Did you read the call from the forest again?
Her three tall masts pierce through the gray,
Where swells of sapphire rise and fall;
She rides the deep in grand display,
Answering the high sea's wild, cold call.
Her canvas full, each sail blown tight,
Stretched firm beneath a heavy breeze,
She carves her way with graceful might,
Across the rolling, restless seas.
With rhythmic ease, the waters swell,
And lift her dark frame toward the sky,
While white-capped crests surrounding tell
Of rolling deeps as she glides by.
From high atop the crow’s nest railing,
A lookout spots gray shadows near—
A pod of whales, majestic, sailing
Beside the hull without a fear.
At helm stands Captain Jack, steadfast,
His weathered hand upon the wheel,
Reflecting on her storied past
And every seam of iron and steel.
Born in the fires of sea-bound lore,
Rebuilt from ash, reclaimed from fate,
The Black Pearl haunts the coast once more,
A ghost of legend, proud and great.
When that icy winter comes
and the chilly wind does blow
best stay indoors
as it's freezing down below
but enquiring minds need to know
who ploughs the roads
so the snowplough man can drive to work
and go to plough the snow?
Jack on a rainy day,went on his toes
To show his bravery to friends and foes
He sang,danced,hopped,jumped and smiled
He slipped hard,though rarely styled
With back upside and downside with flat nose
I recently saw a very big fruit
It’s big enough to be a giant Kiwi
Brown enough to be a pineapple
Round enough to be a fig
It is rare in America but not unknown
The name of this fruit is Jack
Although what exactly it is,
I don not know- not even sure
What a person can do with it.
Her name was Janet.
My wife and I were friends of her sister.
I met her as she lay dying, with never a word.
Her eyes were closed. She was all but gone.
His name was Jack.
I heard that he and his wife Joyce
Were going through a divorce.
I felt the need to do something.
Over the years, I had written
Articles, reports, and sermons,
But I found myself writing a poem
For the very first time. That poem
was written especially for Jack in
Hopes of saving his marriage. It
Did not. In retropect, I can't believe
That I was so naive. I'm not sure of
The present whereabouts of that poem,
but my best recall says that it was titled,
'Stranded Up a Tree'.
As I sat at Janet's bedside, I felt words
Flowing into my spirit from inside of her.
It was strange to me. But I went with the
Flow. My second poem was written in
'First person' words from Janet to her family.
Janet was saying goodbye to her dear family.
Juliet asked, “What’s in a name?”
and, methinks I shall do the same.
What have; Bo-Peep, Boy Blue, Jack Horner,
Miss Muffet, Poll Parrot, Red Riding Hood,
Robin Redbreast and Tommy Tucker
in common, scale-wise, that's underststood?
As none of them are related,
the subject may seem brittle,
altho' not small, or what I call 'tall',
one and all, they are 'Little'.
Like upturned earth on haunted eves for which the beasts replete do seeth toward crisp remoteness the zepher stone burgeons and clasps those boney hands and ushers toward us. Indeed, the fallow are now spent, they rent those waters for healthier hands, but pure and brilliant are not synonymous with a hot-to-trot village filled to the top.
O, cute cat couple in the house, one white and one black,
our lovely darlings, you’re fair Kite and you, dark Jack.
Wherever we go our close company you always keep,
on bed by our cozy side every night you like to sleep.
Jack, you climb up and roll over my sagged shoulder,
Kite, you lie on my paining thighs, for I’m getting older.
Knitting a sweater my wife sits on the sofa with you,
fur and wool strands intertwine to make unique hue.
In separate bowls we give food to you at day and night,
for we need peace, don’t like to see you both fight.
In the closed room when sounds subside, I sit in the dark,
listen happily to the rhythm of your hushed walk.
We don’t let anyone touch or caress you with gentle pats,
nor do we like you to be called animal pets chasing rats,
for you both are like our beloved children we fancy,
we don’t care a bit if people call us a feline couple crazy.
Cinderella hatched a sneaky plan,
make a prince her one and only man,
to look sexy for the ball,
a fairy answered her call,
completed...her secret master plan.
----------------------------
With her stepsisters so very beastie.
plain Cinderella needed to brake free,
she had to bag a sexy prince,
so she took every yard and inch,
her name now starts with an S, not a C.
--------------------------------------------
The giant said fee fi fo fum,
my nose can smell a stinky bum.
In dark, jack quietly hid,
but he squirted like a squid,
pants filled with the body's outcome.
---------------------
Young jacks mum called him such a weirdo,
when tossing the beans out the window,
in the sunny morning light,
she got a fright from the sight,
and then praised young jack as a hero.
Cat decided to sleep outside on Halloween
Be careful! Cautioned her owner; do not be seen
People are evil, do not turn your back.
But cat wanted to guard the pumpkin Jack.
So, she sat in the field, watching her friend.
Luckily the trick-or-treaters were not around the bend.
They stay in town where more houses are.
She did not see a person, a truck or a car.
Zombie Jack is the most fashionable ghoul around
He never wears dull colors like tan, gray, black or brown
Today he is dressed in purples, maybe lavenders too.
His stitched up lopsided mouth is looking at you.
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