PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A single rook now calls aloud,

The mist descends - a chilling shroud.

The falling, winter sun burns red,

It's passing brings a sense of dread.

The low slung, gleaming moon will light

A grim parade of death and fright.

Old friends and foes will all be seen,

They walk again on Halloween.

The quiet of the graveyard's broke

By whispers of awakening folk.

Confused, some search in field and town

For homesteads, long ago knocked down.

Some nose around, they pry and peek,

Lift curtains up, make floorboards creak.

Some crash through rooms, with fearful rage,

Still monsters from a bygone age.

A sleeping babe, not one month old,

Is watched by one who longs to hold.

Tiny feet, stilled much too soon,

Now dance and skip from room to room.

A young man calls his sweetheart's name,

His plague-marked face a mask of pain.

Within the stagnant, steaming pond,

A secret death - but not for long.

The lawless, who from gallows swung,

Still scream, as when their necks were wrung.

Roman soldiers, long since slain,

March, weary, through dark fields again.

Poor maidens, once so fair of face,

Now drift around in rotting lace.

Some mean no harm, but others do,

Awake and filled with hate anew.

So shut your eyes, be quick to drift

And pray, this eve, that sleep comes quick.

The rules of daylight count no more,

The dark has only doom in store.

But should your dreams be hard to find,

Well, worry not, but bear in mind,

You only have the dead to fear,

For just one night, and they are near.

by Gill Oakley

Happy Halloween