Monday, November 28, 2011

Twisted Fate: Poem Honoring Halloween

Twisted Fate

The dark and dreary haunting
happens every night.

It ends upon the dawning
show of light.

Four green warty witches
flying through the air,

cackle at the victims
without any care.

Moss shroud upon their prison like
a coffin with a flag,

seven tiny children
are very, very, sad.

The warty witches taunt
and point into the sky,

the tiny children wish
they could go as high.

The pretty tiny children scream––
"whens our turn to fly?"

The wartiest of all cackles,
it was all a lie

No flying lesson for you
because your alive not dead,

we just wanted to get
inside your heads.

Streaking through the air
She meets her ghastly fate,

The smallest of the children
hits her with a Date,

the warty witch's crooked
foot hits the brooms brake.

Hurling down through trees
she sees the pitch forked laden mob

the other warty witches fly
off into thick fog.

She knows shes ready
for a bloody fight,

before the mob can reach her
she awakens with a fright.

Screaming at her sisters
"No more Sour Patch Kids at night."