Was someone playing a Halloween prank
Near the shimmering Hudson river bank?
Buddies hung out with buddies, wearing masks and caps
Absolutely oblivious to lurking terrors and mishaps.
A fun-filled Halloween afternoon
Morphed into a gun- chilled afternoon.
Out of the blue, without any clue
A bike path, tree-lined
With crumpled bodies was strewn.
Twisted wheels, mangled bikes
Kids in Halloween costumes
Moms frantically pushing strollers
Petrified dads sweating under their collars
Painted faces, with real tears streaked
Wearing cat ears, whined and shrieked.
Screams, too visceral, ricocheted in confusion.
The eerie, surreal and kids snub –nosed
In a bizarre simultaneity were juxtaposed.
“Gun, shooter, run! Come, let’s have fun! Trick or treat!”
Spooky and scary props, chaos and shouting cops.
Yet another chilling senselessness.
Sirens blared, a sick mind had once again dared
to trample innocence.
Once again, a truck had become an instrument of terror.
A sunny and crisp Halloween, was in real gore drenched.
Bodies were crushed, hearts were wrenched.
In a gory patch, a jack 0’ lantern sat, with a toothy grin
Undeterred, remained the bloated, glowing pumpkin.
No, it was not a Halloween prank
Near the shimmering Hudson River Bank.
SEPT/OCT 2017 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
An academician, essayist-novelist -poet, I have an insane passion to write about everything under the sun or the moon! Some of my books like Ballad of Bapu: [a poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi] and Where are the lilacs? [a collection of 111 peace poems] have been internationally acclaimed. Flights from my terrace is my ebook of 58 essays on Smashwords .