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Bp Skinner Poem
A quick pre-Halloween poem to capture a creepy funeral home scene.
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T’was the night before Halloween, the funeral home quiet.
All the tables were taken, like a frightening, dark Hyatt.
Stretchers were full of our customers too,
Varying shades of red, grey, and blue.
Arising a sound that persists unexplained,
Perhaps from a soul of these many remains.
The floor starts to tremor from what goes on below,
As the murmuring starts from deep, down, and low.
It grows quickly into a high volume shriek
When finally is heard when just at its peak,
“Just let me rest here, I need not be moved,
This is my home now, with my two horns and hooves.
I’ll forever be part of your memories and life,
I’ll haunt you, your mother, your children, your wife.
I’ll eat of the living, your auras I’ll steal,
Feeding upon them as my every meal.
This is my promise, a promise I’ll keep,
I’ll haunt you in daylight, I’ll haunt you in sleep.
Get out of my building and just let me be,
Leave me I said or else you will see,
Tomorrow’s not coming you poor simple man,
Get out of my home as fast as you can!”
So, I left there quite quickly, and ran all the way,
To my home and the family I hadn’t seen all that day.
I told my wife nothing of that afternoon,
And preparing myself for the All-Hallowed-Moon,
Went to cuddle my children, my love, and my dog,
And that’s when my mind kind of went to a fog.
I had fallen asleep and opened the door,
For the ghoul to come visit, and even much more,
He could now take me over, my body and brain,
Gather some power and strengthen his reign,
The beast then rose up onto its feet,
Looking for more on which it could eat.
It could feast on my heart and grind on my bones,
And bury me deep, among dirt, rocks, and stones.
As more of these images came to my dreams,
I began hearing them, small giddy screams.
I stirred and knew them, the voices so well,
They were near me, not straight from Hell.
My children were playing aside of my bed,
Huge beads of sweat atop of my head.
The morning had come, despite the ghouls rant,
Believe what had happened, I simply just can’t.
I had feared for my life, turned ten shades of green,
Only to find, it was just Halloween.
Copyright © BP Skinner | Year Posted 2024
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Bp Skinner Poem
When you see a skunk that’s smelly,
Hold your nose and hug your belly.
When you see a grizzly bear,
Picture him in underwear.
When you see a sneaky spider,
Offer him some apple cider.
When you see a big old rat,
Show it to the neighbor’s cat.
When you see the dentist’s drill,
You be strong and don’t get ill.
When you see a rattle snake,
Cook it up with shake and bake.
When your mommy makes you mad,
Step right up and say you’re sad.
When your dad gets way too loud,
Remind him how you make him proud.
When the family just feels not right,
Give big hugs and hold them tight.
It takes some time to grow a bit,
Stand real tall and don’t you sit.
Take the things that you dislike the best.
And throw them out with all the rest.
Growing up is hard to do,
But no one does as well as you.
Copyright © BP Skinner | Year Posted 2024
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Bp Skinner Poem
At the ballgame a man with his hair in a bun,
Was watching the children, and his wee, tiny son,
Who came up to bat with the game on the line,
He looked to his coach, who gave him a sign.
So he did as was told and held out the bat,
Across old home plate it was level and flat.
The pitcher just smiled and threw at the plate
Never expecting what came down to fate.
The ball hit the bat with the slightest of pings
And off went the batter with his feet full of springs.
The catcher and pitcher went after the ball
For the batter himself was tiny and small,
They didn’t expect any hit from the boy
Who had held out his bat so playfully coy.
Neither one got the ball to throw it in time
And the boy was called safe in the bottom of nine.
The pitcher was flustered and made a mistake
By throwing a ball for ball throwing’s sake.
He threw away pitches, none down the pike
Eleven straight balls and not even one strike
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If this final pitch didn’t reach to its mark
The tiny, wee boy who had ignited the spark
Would amble right in and finish the game,
With that winning run being scored in his name.
The pitcher wiped the sweat from his brow
And the hitter straight fooled him, and how
He leveled his bat straight across home plate
He stood there so calmly, just lying in wait.
In the ball came with some furious speed
Traveling just so, as the pitcher did need
But what happened then could nobody see,
The little, shy boy who was so tiny and wee
Had stolen home plate and slid right under the strike
Surprising the pitcher, his coach, and the like.
The wee, tiny boy had won them the game
To prove to himself that he was the same.
He could play with the big boys, and match them with wit,
Never again on the bench would he sit.
The wee, tiny boy would go on to play,
And joyously tell of that one glorious day.
Copyright © BP Skinner | Year Posted 2024
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Bp Skinner Poem
In the woods with naught around,
I spot a dog, a grand old hound.
He spots me back and starts the hunt
Dare I approach him from the front?
I see the teeth and jowls loose,
There I am the waiting goose.
Yards are closing one by one,
Underneath the noonday sun.
Approaching quickly with lightning speed,
I stand my ground with frightening need.
He howls at my steadfast stance.
A knight here jousting, without a lance.
I howl right back and start my charge,
Arms are flailing, feigning large.
The pup takes note and slows its stride.
Perhaps a fear instilled inside?
Can this beast be scared of me?
Unknown is my fear of he?
We both, now walking, see it plain.
Man and dog will both remain.
Copyright © BP Skinner | Year Posted 2024
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