Halloween Quartet No 4 It’s Only Halloween
Outside my bedroom door,
I heard the scratching of its claws
wanting to get into my sanctuary.
Its growl was low and chilling
that my neck hairs stood on end
as it returned to scratching once more.
I lay there in my bed too fearful to move
wondering what hellish creature wanted to get in.
I watched the handle turn;
my heartbeat echoed in my ears,
fright stole my voice
as I lay there in my fears.
A slice of light cut the room into two.
I sank beneath the covers hoping not to be seen,
then a voice spirited around me
as someone pulled the sheet from my bed.
She stood there in ghostly white
and my wife screamed at me.
“Get up you big sissy it’s only Halloween.”
31 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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Halloween Quartet No 3 The Witches House
The broom danced around the room
pushed by unseen hands.
I stood there hypnotised,
and then came the crackling laughter
that echoed in my ears
and seem to come from everywhere.
It stopped and a voice shouted
if you know what’s good for you
you’ll get out of here.
The laughter returned closer than before.
My heart thumped loudly
as I groped in the darkness searching for the door
through spider’s webs and endoplasmic goo
I grasped the handle,
opened it and into the night ran.
Promising myself every step of the way
never to go back there again.
poem by David Harris
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Trick or treat?
It's that time of the year again
when things go bump in the night
when children wander the streets
trying hard to give us a fright.
Wearing long black coats
and witches hat's upon their head
they dress up like scary monsters
and zombies who've risen from the dead.
But last year was a spooky Halloween
when at midnight I heard scratching at my door
nervously I opened it to see who was there
it was a Werewolf blood dripping from it's jaw.
I laughed and said that's a really good disguise
but fancy calling round so late at night
the Werewolf then let out a mighty roar
and grabbed my neck and gave it a bite.
This hideous thing wasn't a child after all
and it then just vanished into thin air
since that night I've never been the same
I bark at the Moon, have claws and long hair.
So let this be a warning to you all
as you don't know what lurks in your street
just be careful before opening your door
on this years Halloween and trick or treat!
poem by Kevin Halls
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In Contact With An Angel
Still asleep in beautiful repose
A knock I heard on my door
Guess the intruder was to the door very close
Cos at my inquiry his voice, though pale became as bold as ore
I, opening my door looked at the little God-created creature
As he stood helplessly like a log of wood
Please sire, he asked in a well-mannered nature
Can you, if you don't mind offer me some food?
God! , he was clad in a garment, so poor
And he looked so cold as snow
How could I now deny him of what he asked for?
Though yonder he came from I don't know
Please, the little stranger asked again
I know you know not me
But please help quench this hunger, this pang of pain
And I ever shall be grateful to thee
As I lay before him a luscious dinner
He looked at the delicacies turn by turn
A smile creased over his cheek like that of a winner
And before long he devoured it all one by one
And suddenly, the little boy in transfiguration turned white
Thank you for helping an angel says he to me
And in a deep bow ascended with the speed of light
And as I stood awe-struck I beheld what I had seen
Wow, I had helped a blessed creature
What a blessed creature I am, I said to myself.14: 59: 31.15/11/10
poem by Olajide Ajibola
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Janice and You and the Spider
You stood
in the playground
of St Jude's school
which was really
the basement
of a bombed out house
which had been gutted
and the basement tarmaced
and the walls
were still there
where kids climbed up
and around
the thin ledge
when Janice
put her hands
over your eyes
and said
guess who?
and you put
your hands
into the pockets
of your short trousers
and said
Miss Murphy
or Miss Ashdown?
no
Janice said
it's me
and she removed
her hands
from over your eyes
and you turned around
and looked at her
and she had
her red beret on
and a pink scarf
around her neck
to keep out
the cold
you must
have known
it was me
she said
who else
would put their hands
over your eyes?
her eyes were bright
and you thought
you could see yourself
in them
as if they were small mirrors
Jupp might do
or maybe Carmody
you said smiling
she didn't smile back
but pulled her lips
tight in a line
then she took your hand
and pulled you
along the path
that led
to the school toilets
and pushed you
inside a cubicle
and shut the door
behind you both
and said
don't you love me?
there was a large spider
hanging from
the cistern chain
close to
her red beret
and it hung there
suspended
swaying back
and forth
and you said
of course I do
right down
to your white socks
but there's a spider
above your head
and she looked up
and screamed
and a voice
outside the door
asked
are you all right
in there?
Janice's eyes widened
and she watched
as the spider
moved up the chain
and she said
yes it's all right
Miss Murphy
just a small spider
and you stood there
next to Janice
wondering what
Miss Murphy
would say
if she saw you
and Janice
in the lavatory
together
and the voice said
ok as long
as you
are all right
and the footsteps
moved away
and Janice took
your hand in hers
and you sensed
how cold it was
slightly blue
and it was just
9 year old Janice
and the big spider
and 9 year old you.
poem by Terry Collett
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Haiti Survivor
The earth shook
And the buildings collapsed
She and her friends were trapped
Total eclipse.
Light left no trace
In darkness she heard
herself and her friends
crying, sobbing, moaning
in pain so unbearable to bear.
She could not move her legs
Only her hands could touch
a stone, wanting to embrace
her friends but she could not.
Dusts filled her lungs
She coughed, yes, they coughed.
They continued to sob and moan
She screamed calling for help
She yelled in all despair
but nobody heard her.
Those outside had to survive
They were running to find
shelter from the after shocks.
They were pulling bodies
of those whose legs and hands
they could see and touch
But she and her friends were trapped
Down deep in the ruins of dark dungeon.
One week passed
The voices of her friends
were heard no more
Two weeks and three days passed
And there was no voice for her to shout.
She prayed, she slept, she dreamed
She saw light, she saw herself
willing to start a new life
Then she woke up
to this new dream, to this last hope
and to this new lease of life.
With the last hope in her voice
She cried for help again
And her last voice echoed
to the ears of the French rescuers
Then slowly the light entered
Her will to live on won.
Out from the ruins and rubbles,
she was pulled out from total eclipse
to the full shining lights of sun and moon.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Cricket!
I rose in the dark, felt my way through the room,
We have no en-suite so I groped in the gloom,
The bladder is dicky at my time of life
So I tried to get out without waking the wife.
But outside the door stood a figure I knew
From the Halloween Party the wife had been to,
A monkey, who stood like a simian guard
Holding something quite furry, and rigid and hard!
I said, 'Step aside! I must get to the loo
Or there may be an accident, all over you! '
So he did, with a grunt, and I staggered away
Down the hall to the loo, at the break of the day.
But when I returned he had quite disappeared
And I entered the bedroom to see what I feared,
For there on the bed causing all sorts of strife
He was up to his armpits in Molly, my wife!
I called out - 'Old chap! Now that's not really nice
Coming in from the jungle and bonking my wife! '
He just went on grunting and humping away
As my wife lay there snoring, ignoring the day.
'I know what your name is! ' I said, 'Ken de Groot!
I was there, watched you hiring that old monkey suit!
You're from the same club, you're a first order bat
But I don't think it's cricket what you're playing at! '
The wife kept on snoring, I thought it was strange
With her legs round his neck, like some act, pre-arranged,
But I didn't dare wake her, she might have a fit
If she woke to a monkey just doing his bit!
He got up and left, I was sadly distressed
Though I tried not to show it, she woke up and dressed.
'Is there anything wrong my sweet possum? ' I said,
'Nothing dear... but I dreamt of a monkey in bed! '
The following morning it happened again,
I rushed to the loo as the monkey went in,
I tore off his mask; not de Groot - Eddie Burns!
It seems the whole Cricket Club takes it in turns!
Then day after day it was more like a zoo,
Not just monkeys, but rhino's, and elephants too,
They start before dawn and they line up three deep
While my neighbour's say: 'How d'you expect us to sleep? '
While Molly still slumbers away every morn,
The rhino turns up once a week with his horn,
I knew when I met her she'd always kept pets,
But now she gets checked every week at the vets!
So bowing to fate, I threw open the door
The Cricket Club loves dressing up, I keep score.
I stand by the door - not to watch what they did
But to bolster my pension each day - fifty quid!
5 December 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Smacked
Kept pocketed and it's deep,
Those feelings so hard to reach.
And then with no warning shown...
They're seen unbelievebly,
To rattle as if in battle...
To match!
And...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Kept pocketed and it's deep,
Those feelings so hard to reach.
And then with no warning shown...
They're seen unbelievebly,
To rattle!
And...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Finding...
No time to rhyme,
When...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Finding...
No time to rhyme,
When...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Kept pocketed and it's deep,
Those feelings so hard to reach.
And finding,
No time...
To rhyme,
When...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Caged Love
My love is caged
Like a wild beast
I see you walk by and growl
Deep within my throat
These bars that separate us
Will not be forever
One day I shall be free
To have my way with you
I stretch my claws for someday
I will claw you
I lick my fangs for someday I will
Bite your neck and thrash you
I shall stalk you
And crouch in shadows
With only yellow-green eyes
Will you see in the reflection of your light
I shall leap and pin your
Helpless arms with my my paws
I will look into your eyes and growl
You will feel my hot breath upon your neck
I will bite you, then taste your flesh
My claws will rip you
Bite after bite rip after rip
It will be my pleasure
My love is a caged love
But I will have my treasure
These bars cannot hold forever
Someday my love shall be free
poem by Midnights Voice
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The Ghost
The yawning creak of the door
as ivy branches tap the windowpane,
dancing shadows from the candle
caught in a draught from beneath the door.
I sit in what is reputed to be a very haunted room
waiting to see a ghost no one has ever seen.
They’ve only heard the wailing
in the middle of the night.
Therefore, I’m sitting here
my imagination wanting to play tricks
on me as darkness falls.
I’ve come to help this lost wailing spirit
that seems bound to this room
and to help release it
into the heavenly light,
also to find its secret
why it is bound to this room.
The town clock chimes midnight.
I wait, but nothing happens.
Maybe the lost wailing spirit
has taken the night off.
A voice sounded from the gloom.
“Excuse me, are you still up? ”
I looked around
and there by the doorway
stood a tall dark figure there.
“Yes, how can I help you? ”
“Please put out the candle
as it is keeping me awake.”
“But this room is haunted
and I’m waiting to see the ghost.”
Then came, a hearty chuckle
from the dark figure.
“So they got you at as well.
Turn out the candle
and get good nights sleep.
There is no ghost here.
Who on earth told you that.
Whoever it was
just tell them Smiler told you so.”
The next morning
after one of the best sleeps,
I have ever had.
I told the proprietor who had invited me.
They laughed when I told them
that Smiler had told me so.
When they stopped laughing
they said. “Smiler is the ghost
we were telling you about.”
poem by David Harris
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The Voice
One feather is a bird,
I claim; one tree, a wood;
In her low voice I heard
More than a mortal should;
And so I stood apart,
Hidden in my own heart.
And yet I roamed out where
Those notes went, like the bird,
Whose thin song hung in air,
Diminished, yet still heard:
I lived with open sound,
Aloft, and on the ground.
That ghost was my own choice,
The shy cerulean bird;
It sang with her true voice,
And it was I who heard
A slight voice reply;
I heard; and only I.
Desire exults the ear:
Bird, girl, and ghostly tree,
The earth, the solid air--
Their slow song sang in me;
The long noon pulsed away,
Like any summer day.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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The Sun In The Room
I rotated near her outer planets
hovering beyond Saturn's rings
allowing comets to go by me
unseen.
She was the Sun
attracting all of us
to the middle of the solar system,
and I was now just behind Jupiter
still, but being drawn
toward her center.
The buzz in the room;
the office party,
feigned humor,
the dip
the chips
all revolving around her.
Gravity drew everyone
to her.
She was the source of light in the room,
laugh like summer rain
it came in soft sheets,
her hair
she flipped
and it fell in separate stands;
flowing perfectly in place
arrayed against her
backless dress
creatin ripples in a pond.
She touched you when
she talked
talked close to your face
absorbed you;
others
stood by
transfixed
each waiting their turn
for her attention.
Her skin was alive
and you could see
the champagne
move to her cheeks
making them glow.
You could see imprints
on her shoulder
where she'd been touched
by a finger-tip,
the nape of her neck
curved away sweepingly
and you wanted to walk around her
to follow it's path
to the other side beneath her ears
beneath her cheeks.
The more you looked
the more you wanted to see.
I draw closer still
not looking
but looking for distraction,
at the chips and dip station,
cupping my wine glass
looking through it
out the other side
to keep her in view.
But I look up and she is gone.
Gone.
And I hear:
'You work upstairs don't you? '
I knew her voice
I knew her smell
her yellow aura,
those liquid eyes.
But I didn't look at her,
I kept her face in my minds eye
to see it would match her
when I finally looked.
It did taking my breath away.
'You hear me'
You are pretending not to hear me.'
I didn't breathe,
I didn't move.
I didn't look her way.
'I hear you' I said
It's just that I can't look
You might disappear if I look
and I might tear up
realizing that you were just a dream.'
'I'm not a dream she said.
I'm real.
I'm right here.'
'If you are really there 'then take my hand'
I said
and let's take a walk'
And that was how we met.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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At That Scary Night
As if, curfew, prevailed at that scary night.
In stillness, I heard a cranky sound of fright.
Waking up I looked through my open window,
Did I see a man or his ghostly shadow?
A blackbird flew over age old Maple tree.
The moon behind the cloud could not be free.
The waning light fell, on my tired cold bed,
The shadow, pushed in my room his demon head.
Leaves of Oak danced without any blowing wind.
My sleep and peace of mind thus simply got ruined.
‘Who is there? '-I asked in shivering fearful voice.
Canine teeth shined and flashed a pair of green eyes,
Then, dog wailed and moaned behind my house's hedge.
But, I could not gather all my lost courage.
Pressing the Cross uttered I—‘ My Lord save me.'
Vanished ghostly shadow, no more I did see.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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What Matilda Said
Matilda closed the door. Matilda
Saw Millie by the window. Her maid’s
Uniform looked tight at the rear. She
Wanted to place her arms around her
Waist, kiss her neck. Millie turned and
Said, He’s out there with Mrs Dimmable.
Matilda walked to the window and stared.
She sensed Millie beside her; heard her
Breathing, the brush of her sleeve against
Her arm. Looks happy enough, Matilda said
Of Mrs. Dimmable. You didn’t sleep too well
Last night, Millie said, turning, going to the
Bed. She pulled back the covers, smoothed
Out the sheet. Matilda went around the other
Side of the bed and looked at Millie. You were
Tossing and turning, Millie said looking up.
Matilda helped make the bed and said, Sorry
About that. Millie stared at Matilda and said
You murmured words. Did I? Matilda replied.
Yes, Millie said, looking at her hands. What did
I say? Matilda asked. You muttered my name.
Millie stood back from the bed, gazed at Matilda.
You said things. What things? Said you loved me.
Millie blushed at the words. Matilda patted the
Pillow but said nothing. She brushed her hands
Over the covers, pushed away creases. She paused.
Looked at the window. Smelt the flowers in a vase.
Do you? Millie asked. Love me? Matilda stared
Out at Mrs Dimmable and the new gardener.
Her lips wanted to move but nothing came.
Her eyes watered. The world was awash. Millie
Walked to the window, put her arms around Matilda’s
Waist, her fingers formed a knot on Matilda’s stomach.
Matilda placed her hands over Millie’s.
They do look in love and contented don’t they?
Millie said over Matilda’s shoulder. Matilda’s sensed
The warm breath. Yes, she said, they do. Do you?
Millie’s breath uttered softly into her ear, yes.
poem by Terry Collett
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No Voice
There are times when we feel
we have no voice
we are suffocated by circumstances.
Our voice is lost in the void;
we wander with eyes open
and no mouth for things to say.
Those around us are oblivious
that our presence is near.
We are invisible
with only our ears to hear.
We have no voice to shout our protests clear,
no voice to vent our anger at what we can hear.
Our voice is silenced by circumstances
some of which we do not understand.
We have no voice today or tomorrow,
and even if we had a voice
would it be heard?
Would our words fall
on vacant and deaf ears?
The question remain unanswered
for around us silence reins.
Silent as our protests
and frustration is all we gain.
One day our gag maybe lifted,
but will it be too late.
There maybe no one around us
and our anger will be lost,
lost in the silence when no one is there.
We can only hope that one day
when the silence clears
our voice among the millions
will finally be heard.
15 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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Haunting
Sit down on that stool hear the cant of a fool
And a strange tale Ill impart to ye
Of a time that I lived at the buff of a hill
neath the burial chambers you see
One saturday night I got up on my bike
To go to a dance in the town
I set off at seven to be there at eleven
No thought of the rain coming down
As I pushed up the hill the rain started to spill
So for shelter I had to resort
Helter skelter I went as downhill I sped
To the trees at the old fairy fort
I pulled up my bike be a tree in the gripe
To find shelter out of the storm
The rain it came down and like stones beat the ground
But it was grand to be dry in that storm
I was dreaming away about better days
When a voice it says dirty ould night
I fell over me bike I got such a fright
When the ghostly voice bid me the night
I jumped up with a start gave the storm not a thought
As the hail beat a rhythm on me
And I stared at the tree that had spoken to me
Not a body was there I could see
The voice I had heard not another word said
As the hair on the head stood on me
And I said an our father as I peddled much faster
Away from that ghost haunted tree
For weeks and weeks after with nerves a disaster
Nowhere near that road would I go
And from dusk through the night I would shake with the fright
Of the tree that had haunted me so
Now whenever I go to a dance in the town
I make sure not to stop on the way
To be there for eleven I still leave at seven
But I go by a different way
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In These Trees Together
They watched me.
I watched them.
They with their tails...
And me swinging on a vine,
From tree to tree wondering
As I look for a place to settle!
'Why aren't the squirrels scratching their butts,
Like the monkeys?
We're all in these trees together!
And I'm doing the best I can to be neighborly! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Old Stray Cat....
what if i took my rusted axe,
and chopped up the cross
of my self-denial,
would you come and stand by the fire?
what if i opened my eyes
and you could see through them,
as if my heart were a window,
would you shake for just a moment?
what if i laid down this body,
and took up wings of flight...
would you hear and know the sound of the sky
moaning against my freedom.
and what if i stood on your porch,
with my painter's brush and my broom,
would you recognize the scratching
of this old stray cat....
and open the door to your secret room?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Knock, Knock
Lord Jesus stood there at my door
And twice He knocked then stayed.
It was my choice, I could ignore
And that's why I delayed.
He walked away.
I watched Him leave
Then got on with my life,
To sin like others who deceive
And cause all sorts of strife
Lord Jesus stood there at my door
And I watched Him inside.
I knew He knew my every flaw,
Not one could be denied.
I stood my ground, He left again.
I let Him walk away.
I struggled every now and then
With fears of Judgment Day.
My bank account looked mighty fine
As fifteen years passed by.
To think that all that cash was mine.
How come my soul felt dry?
Lord Jesus stood there at my door,
With fear I turned the key.
And simply stared at Christ with awe.
You see, He died for me.
Lord Jesus entered as my friend,
Yet also set me straight.
My useless life came to an end,
God's love to celebrate.
I sighed I'd made Him wait so long.
Those years I can't restore.
I tell you this, you can't go wrong
If you open the door.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Pads, Paws & Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
Come on little honey, let me under your hive
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pads, Paws And Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
"come on little honey, let me under your hive"
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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