He’s torn apart by demons.
These spooks are of his own making.
Struggles in the middle of an ocean.
He’s drowning in plain sight.
I don’t have the tools to help him.
I simply can’t get through to him.
We’re all helpless to assist.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Do you hear that wicked sound?
Like a spiral staircase squeaking?
An old piano’s got the spooks,
my insides have got the frisson.
It’s like my hands are controlled,
I can play what I’ve never heard.
It’s a shockwave to my system.
Running my fingers on the ivory,
something’s off it feels so foreign.
Yet I feel like I have found home,
now I have the coldest of chills.
A surge of cozy behind the bench,
edgy over what I don’t understand.
To my system? It’s a shockwave.
This piano’s giving me the spooks.
The psychic walked into a bar
She said “I don’t like this!”
A superstitious bartender screamed and ran off.
He left his wallet.
“You don’t like what?” her camera man asked.
The TV audience was wondering too.
I was holding my breath, awaiting her answer.
“I don’t like that mirror behind the bar,” she told him.
“It makes me look fat.”
four little Hallows Eve spooks sitting on a fence
Named Ford, Carter, Rockefeller and Pence.
Camouflaged as jacks, the little one says.
She is persnickety and impolite, we call her Inez.
This is my song, says the singer; Stay out of it, please.
It is ghostly and spooky, this floats to them on a breeze.
The jacks are quiet when a werewolf howls their way.
It turns their lights to black, scary end to their ghostly day.
Carrying an ignoble act in mind
With a ruse to devour all humankind.
A witch will tell you that all will be well
If you allow her to cast a charmed spell.
Ignore her and find that your soul be cursed
By a demon spell that can't be reversed.
On Halloween there'll be no redemption
No place to hide, no divine exemption.
* * *
8 Lines of Spooky Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
War is the spookiest Thought that I know
Lingering and dreaming deep down below
Blood ridden bodies with death at the door
Each bullet with a name written on the ammo
Sleepless nights wondering if you get to go home
Or be placed in a coffin with a flag atop a dome
Wind driven choppers carrying the dead back home
Today could be your last day of all spooky syndromes
Contest: Eight Lines of Spooky Rhyme
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Date Created: 10/24/2020
In that wood so dark and deep
where ne'er but silent shadows sleep
there spectral images e'er do creep
in that darkened wood so deep
In that wood of shadows long
where ghouls and ogres there do throng
there where spells are cast in song
there in that wood of shadows long
In that wood so still and dark
where wolves do howl and coyotes bark
there where bleeds the elder bark
there in that wood so still and dark
Into that wood go not at all
where spooks and banshees scream and call
there where many are said to fall
do not go to that wood at all
watch your step
or you will wept
theyer comming soon
so watch the moon
on this night
some wear all white
no doudt
ON HOLLOWEEN
SPOOKS OR OUT
Our town of Newmarket is alive with kooks
Evidence is the number of sillies and spooks
Unusual to be sure
In our brochure
An image of Goofy in a warm wooly tuque
so you won't wept
watch our step
stay near street lights
some will dress in white
its too
scare you this do
nodoudt
TONIGHT THE SPOOKS
COME OUT
its not a dream
some look mean
comes everyyear
some dress as a bear
some have on white
under the street light
they more then on or too
it the
NIGHT OF THE SPOOKS
1
"Darling, this is the place where my dead body was kept before burial
Let's have a kiss in this dead room before spooks get in with brooms"
2
"Spooks die in beetle soup and beetles die in spooky poop under Encounter Group"
3
"..and they die happily ever after"
Spooks were making love their bones were clattering
Fresh in after death sex they were a prattling
They missed the first session
How to spook the passion
And slipped to their graves skulls down saber rattling
Spooks were making love© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty 14 November 2014
Embolden they, marching hand in hand a unison
Determined to bring down his child; Nero, Pharaoh and her
Sparrow trailed closely by their three little pigs ? Baby playing amid love's
Innocent crib unaware these, daemonicia noses pressed unto destiny's forte glass ?
Licking time's panes premogenitor's werewolves her full moon: crimson, begins it's howl
Hunch'back hallways imploding doors splintered eyes the battle cry ~ Charge....
....Bobby, juggling his infant giggling.
So he loaded up the fossil fuel and they moved to Beverly
Hills that is, Hollywood, movie stars ? Afore their golden years...
Her Queen of Buckingham Palace sent for Shakespeare as to enquire
His nether worlds nouveau riche nostrum Prince, Nightingale Night Blindness
If their Fab Four would be accompanying King Abbooboo to the Jim Crow festival during
Astarte's, William the Conqueror's, Normandy of Christopher Columbus', avant-garde days ?
Signant his reply carried past the Black Hills of Dunderhead Falls; via Her Whites Templer Thee, Search'light.
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