Short Halloween Poems
Could Be Halloween
Yowling, prowling, growling cat
Why do you turn your tail like that?
Why do your eyes flash gold and green?
Could be–should be–Halloween!
Slinky, inky, blinky cat,
Why do you arch you’re returned like that?
What frightening creatures have you visible?
Could be–must be- Halloween!
Since this is the time for goblins and bats,
Halloween spirits, ghosts and cats,
Weird-happenings and witches brew,
These are the things I want for you.
May the best spirit you chance to fulfill,
Be the spirit of love and heat buddies sweet.
May the tricks that you are asked to do,
Be a trick that will help you benefit a chum or two.
So, through the next day, pick out 3 buddies sweet,
And deliver them all a Halloween treat.
You only have at some point, so hurry!
Leave a deal with on your doorstep, then fled in a rush!
An evil creature in the twilight looping,
Flapped blindly in his face. Beating it off,
He screeched in terror, and strightway something clambered
Heavil from an oak, and dropped, bent double,
To shamble at him zigzag, squat and bestial.
Headlong he charges down the wood, and falls
With roaring brain–agonidy–the snap’t spark–
And blots of green and purple in his eyes.
Then the slow fingers groping on his neck,
And at his hear the strangling clasp of death.
(Cora May Preble)
I’m no longer afraid on Halloween
Because my Mother stated
I must now not worry the one’s funny things
But chortle at them as an alternative.
For orange faces in the night time
That stare with eyes so wide,
Are most effective pumpkins on a porch
With candlelight inner.
And there are no things like ghosts . . .
Those figures shining white,
Our best youngsters much like me
Wrapped up in sheets so tight.
I do no longer worry an unmarried issue
On Halloween you notice,
Because I understand they virtually are
Not what they appear to be.
For ghosts and goblins, witches, spooks,
And other horrifying folks
We hear approximately on Halloween
Are in reality most effective jokes.
Magic Mommy Kisses
(or A Halloween Good Night)
Each night I tuck you into bed
I brush my hand across your head
and in each tiny little fist
I location a magic mommy kiss.
Full of love and desire so shiny
To keep you adequately through the night time,
Mommy kisses on your hand
To guide you off to slumberland.
If you ought to dream of monsters mean
Or witches with faces masked in green,
Of snakes that squeeze you oh-so-tight
Or darkness without a sign of light.
When nightmares maintain you stiff with worry
light… a part of mommy still is near.
Just open up your hand and blow
One mommy kiss and nightmares go.
What shape became this who got here to us,
With basilisk eyes so ominous,
With mouth so sweet, so toxic,
And tortured arms so light?
We saw her wavering backward and forward,
Through dark and wind we saw her cross;
Yet what her call was did now not know;
And felt our spirits fail.
The reducing wind is a merciless foe.
I dare no longer stand within the blast.
My palms are stone, and my voice a groan,
And the worst of dying is beyond.
I am however a touch maiden nevertheless,
My little white ft are sore.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and allow me in on the door!
“The Hollow Men” through T.S. Eliot
We are the hole guys
We are the stuffed guys
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, while
We whisper collectively
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ toes over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without shape, coloration with out coloration,
Paralysed pressure, gesture with out movement;
Those who’ve crossed
With direct eyes, to loss of life’s other Kingdom
Remember us-if in any respect-not as misplaced
Violent souls, but most effective
As the hole guys
The filled men.