Hallowe’en
written by: Johnch
Dressed now in guise to befuddle
Out to seek the last of golden ears
Toil the last of till’s crop to bushel
Rest awhile now to sup, drink, regale
Then walk, in hooded fear past
The marks carved in stone, runes
To marvel at the bears and foxes
Wolves and sheep at dance
While pipe and drum lift their feet
With maybe a glow, eyed
in the folds of ghoul ridden darkness
In its slow rise to naked trees
Huddle close in our walk
Arms locked till a Plucked sleeve shriek
Rises our ancestor’s fear our hair
Whispered prayer whispered prayer whispered prayer.
John writes poetry as a means of capturing the roaming sentences that spring to mind at any time often a reaction to his environment at the time. His poetry blog - Underlined on WordPress.
Latest posts by Johnch (see all)
- Consequences - November 26, 2025
- Hallowe’en - October 28, 2025
- I Can Taste The Distant Rain - September 25, 2025
