Wednesday, October 29, 2008

A Few Poems For Halloween

Peeping Tom's Curse:

On cooling nights in autumn when the leaves are chilly bright
The scent of burning apple wood rises from streets at night
I often like to amble midst the storefronts and the bramble,
To watch my fellows traveling a forest made of light.

I see them with their overcoats that break the razor wind,
I hear their frequent commenting that winter will begin,
Oh how I watch and listen (and I sometimes catch ‘em kissin!)
These travelers who do not notice me beyond the din.

It’s not yet time for holidays, but up here in Vermont,
The fall brings many leaves to peep, and that’s the tourist want,
So they stroll oblivious to all my gazing devious
And never taking notice of the shadows that I haunt

Please do not tell the visitors I’m watching as they go,
They all are better off if they are never let to know
For those who can detect me, more than those who just suspect me,
Will never more find beauty in an autumn alpenglow.

Oh, please do not for one moment think that I wish them ill
I simply state the way it’s been for forty years now still,
Since I left the mortal plane this curse has brought nothing but pain,
And so I keep hidden from all those but the most evil.

When I was young I spent many a day upon the road,
Traveling Tom was my name, curiosity bestowed,
I walked around aimlessly, with nature on the brain, you see,
Astounded at the bounty that the trees would soon unload.

It was this fatal gazing that would prove my great downfall,
For casting my gaze all around it rested on the mall,
Where, between two businesses, and safe away from witnesses
I saw a murder happening and, “STOP!” out I did call.

‘Twas that impulsive outcry that would prove my fatal break,
Before too long I’d suffer the result of my mistake,
The villain heard my cry, and chased me down, and made me to die,
But first a curse I laid upon him had its chance to take:

On you,” I said with final breath, “a curse I do impart
That nevermore shall anything but darkness find your heart,
My soul shall not splinter and shall haunt you every winter
Now let this ground be cursed when my spirit doth depart

But curses made with final breath do seldom find reprieves,
And as a ghost this spot I haunt; my vengeance it receives
I should have been specific rather than so damn sadistic

Remember then, when gazing, keep your eyes upon the leaves.

Vanish, Little Morsels:

I love to feed the chickens
And the ducks and piggies, too
They cluck and quack
And oink and then
I feed them parts of you.

I didn’t mean to kill you
But you really made me mad.
I told you if
You cheated it
Would really be quite bad.

So when I saw the pictures
Well, I really had no choice
I cut you up
To shut you up
I couldn’t bear your voice.

Who thought that you’d betray me?
I know I never did.
And who'd have known
That anger sown
Would make me flip my lid?

So vanish little morsels,
They will eat while you’re still hot
Then you’ll be gone,
I’ll be alone,
And never will get caught.

The Witch

Hidden from the realm of men
The witch remembers deep
The time before, the time of when
She marshalled men from sleep

She made them do her bidding
With whispers in their dreams
Sent warriors for fitting
In steel and armored seams

Brazen witch, immortal hag,
She kept the Nightmare King
Together playing horror tag
With every sleeping thing.

Riches more than these she sought
While whispers winnowed will
'Til with enough souls, hers was bought
From Darker Power still.

King of Nightmares sensed her plan
And banished her from sight,
Coveting his power o'er
The visions in the night.

Now the witch waits lost in time;
She's plotting her return.
Careful where your visions climb,
The witch's whispers burn.

Born Bad: Prelude to The Witch

A savage place! As holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
–from Kubla Khan, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Inside the dome of Kubla Khan
Was born a child accursed,
Of raven hair and beauty wan,
Sheer evil at its worst.

In childbirth did her mother pass;
The child was held regarded
With wary eyes of empty glass,
As father, too, departed.

Her mewling cries did reach the Khan;
He came to see the cause
Her pallid skin and ebon eyes
Did give great Kubla pause

Unwilling, though, to cast her out
The girl was made a ward
The Khan’s discretion none would doubt
His people loved their lord

But those inside the pleasure-dome
From her themselves would keep
Their children not allowed to roam
Along with blackened sheep

She grew a timid, artful girl
And to the shadows kept
‘Til Kubla sent this devil spawn
To aid the dome’s adept

‘Twas he who saw what lay within
Her lithe and quiet frame
Only to find to his chagrin
The damage done by shame

He sought to teach her wizardry,
A role to fit within,
Alas, it was too late for she,
Neglected as she’d been.

Her mentor she would soon deceive,
Malicious magic maid,
She put on faces he’d believe,
But studied tomes forbade

In secret did she grow in skill
Concocting her designs
Perfecting all her spells until
Fruition showed its signs

For Xanadu’s surrounding caves
Were proof from second sight
‘Twas there she plotted newborn graves
In haunted moonlit night

She took herself a Demon-mate
Who promised ever more
Of power to manipulate
Than e’re she’d had before.

If she would send the souls of men
Upon which he could feed
Immortal he would make her then,
To which she soon agreed.

To set her plan in action, then,
She killed the wise adept
She loved him most of any men;
A single tear she wept.

Now silently she crept beside
The soldiers in their beds
She whispered thoughts of homicide
Upon their sleeping heads.

Her pallid puppets played their roles;
She unto battle sped them;
Then quickly gathered up their souls
And to Demon fed them.

The Khan alone could not be swayed
Through magics that she wove,
And so her demon-lover slayed
When through its heart he drove

Excalibur, the sword of swords,
Its blessed blade impelled;
The witch did shriek and curse the lords
Her sorcery dispelled!

The power of her sorrowed cry
It found the Nightmare-king
But that’s another lullaby
With horrors it will bring.


John in IL said...

Poem #2 should scare the shit out of Norm (or scare the fidelity into him).

Jamie said...


I actually wrote that one while we were all sitting around the living room. You shoulda seen the look on his face.

His sister, however, thought it was hilarious. ;)

What, no opinon on the other ones?

Guess I've got more of a limerick audience here.

There once was a man from Nantucket . . .

Tommy said...