The pitch-black sky
Roars out loud,
Scaring the humans
Lurking around.
However, the danger remains hidden,
For it’s the flash, not the roar,
That destroys
Within no time save.
Hummingbird, You're Scaring Me!
That's Too
Short Of
A Poem.
-Sigh.-
-Gray Squirrel
11-11-2024
Don't know if I've ever told you before
But I'm the creative director
Of our cool little community newspaper
It's quite the people connector
It's all about events and the 'goings on'
That interest the local folks
But I'm not averse to lighting things up
With an abundance of silly jokes
Keeps me out of damn mischief each day
Instead of walking the streets
Scaring the little old ladies half to death
Offering them goodies and sweets
Guess I sound like a lecherous old man
But I do get lonely at times
That's when wifey chains me to the porch
But I'm a sweet old loveable kind!
So it's finally out, now you guys can see
When not concocting silly rhymes
Try hard to find ways to amuse myself
Till wifey calls me in at nine!
Even the trees are gnarly on Halloween night
mean black cats arch their backs, wind does not feel right
Nasty sticky wet ghouls are climbing out of their crypts
Trick-or-treaters tell all about the candy, showing lose lips.
vampires are laughing as they head for your neck.
Werewolves are howling, ghosts come at your beck
it’s the night for all kinds of ungodliness to prance about
Quit your crying, you were the ones begging to come out.
yes, that is a werewolf, he is getting closer too.
Maybe he won’t get you this time, but your cousin Lou.
Trick-or-treating is dangerous, the jacks are alive.
We will be lucky if we get home without a witch’s skydive.
Babbalineena was sweeping when the door creeped her out
it was opening slowly, with a creakiness, scarier than a shout
I thought you witches were brave, a hoarse voice whispered near
Babbalineena was terrified, hair stood up on the her neck and her rear
I do not have any money, she told the voice, I barter my things, honey
That is fine with me, the ghostly voice hissed, I do not want your money
What do you want then? I am old, I would not taste tender or sweet
I just came to say “Hello, auntie, it is me, Joey, and trick or treat!”
two of the happiest most colorful trolls of the hour
came by in a wheelbarrow and picked up a flower
I watched them and smiled, they were having such fun.
one of them fell out and landed smack on his bum.
they both thought this was a hoot, and laughed merrily.
I ran out and asked if either would like Georgia peach tea.
they ran off giggling, but did not answer me at all.
my pink zinnias told me it is because I am a monster at five feet tall.
Witch Joyce had a contest with Wormwood, the warlock of choice.
He had stated his cauldron made better brew than that of Joyce.
Their cauldrons created conniving concoctions that tempted and dared.
The rest of the villagers, gnomes and faeries ran away, for they were all scared.
It is August, summer break.
Our six-year-old grandson Jay comes to spend the night.
His great grandfather terrorizes him with scary stories.
Each of them begins and ends with a frightening red robot.
“He is from the planet Marconius, and he always kills people.”
I ask my grandfather to please stop scaring him.
He scoffs at my efforts. “He likes it! “He tells me.
I forgot that there was an antique robot in my daughter’s bedroom.
Where Jay is going to spend the night.
Jay begins screaming because he thinks he has seen it move.
We let him sleep with the storyteller.
And through that door is the morgue
The editor said, motioning toward
an unassuming, flat-black, painted door
“Do you want to see it?”
The wanna-be journalists from high school
Began shaking their heads ‘no’.
A pastor with fervor and preparedness
Entered a hall to preach the word of God
That he might convert souls in the area
And earn graces for work from divine duty
What did he see seated on every chairs?
Souls upon souls waiting for him to enter
Those that died were back to hear him well
And demonstrate their concern of disgust
Souls scarred by deception and treachery
Souls tortured by earthly corruption
Souls that were tattooed in wars for wealth
Souls of murderers, adulterers, rapists
One soul rose up and told him in the face;
“You have been attacking us in your preaching
We are here today ready for the attack
Now do your things; we are here with you.”
Souls that wore only skeletons fenced him
Others with only skin membranes blocked exit
And one without head interrogated to pastor,
“Your words are axes. Do we need them?”
Don't know if I've ever told you before
But I'm the creative director
Of our cool little community newspaper
It's quite the people connector
It's all about events and the 'goings on'
That interest the local folks
But I'm not averse to lighting things up
With an abundance of silly jokes
Keeps me out of mischief every day
Instead of walking the streets
Scaring all the little old ladies to death
Offering them goodies and sweets
Guess I sound like a lecherous old man
But I do get lonely at times
That's when Cathie chains me to the porch
But I'm a sweet old lovable kind!
So it's finally out, now you guys can see
When not concocting silly rhymes
I try to find other ways to amuse me
Till Cathie calls me in at nine!
© Jack Ellison 2013
I tiptoe through the darkness as silent as the night,
My ears attuned to any sound, there’s not a soul in sight;
Goosebumps prickle across my skin as panic washes over me,
I hear the slightest noise ahead and I strain my eyes to see;
My uneasy breathing fogs the air as my heart pounds on in dread,
I stand in the black frozen in fear, my feet have turned to lead;
I shiver uncontrollably as I wait in the dark alone,
Terror grips my heart as I prepare to face the unknown;
I’m poised on the balls of my feet ready to bolt into the night,
Then as I’m getting ready to make a dash, my hubby flips on a light!
Unable to turn back, early morning finds me here again,
The clocks still ticking with hands of the mannequin.
Where winter sets in her lonely cold
And frozen blue lips leave a story untold.
And I closed my eyes but still fell to pieces
At the words of the monster as he preaches
With nothing left I ran away inside
From all I loved, but they had lied.
There could've been a way to get though his hate
But too soon it seems you would be too late
I took to drying those perfect tears
Dishonest with myself, I marry my fears.
Yet I could not force my heart to beat away from you
but something, my love, is still there scaring you.
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