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 Tamara Beryl Latham - The Poet      30411 Poems Read

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Small Cat  The Monarch's Touch
Small Cat  Of Random Splendor (Sonnet)
Small Cat  Fractured
Small Cat  The Actress
Small Cat  Catherine and William
Small Cat  Checkmate
Small Cat  Destiny
Small Cat  Dueling Violins (Yanni's Song) - Sonnet
Small Cat  Flowers of Time
Small Cat  For Bullies
Small Cat  My Contribution to Politics
Small Cat  No Greater Love Than Mine
Small Cat  Requiem in Blue
Small Cat  Schizophrenia
Small Cat  School Daze (ABC Poem)
Small Cat  Shadow Dance (Pantoum)
Small Cat  The Christmas Angel
Small Cat  The Darkest Halloween
Small Cat  The Holocaust - A Poem of Remembrance
Small Cat  The Living Dead
Small Cat  The Moon Thing
Small Cat  The Path Through Time
Small Cat  The Poet's Creed
Small Cat  The Red Garter
Small Cat  The Seasons
Small Cat  The Spectral Lines (Rondelet)
Small Cat  The Trinity - E = mc^2
Small Cat  The Winds of Change
Small Cat  Through Winter Woods (Sonnet)
Small Cat  We Two Ships
Small Cat  Without Sin

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The Darkest Halloween

Under cloak of a midnight sky,
on Halloween, the moon was full.
An eerie sight soon caught my eye,
I viewed his body being pulled.
The dirt unearthed was moist and fresh,
once the grave where he'd been placed.
A man of forty, so I'd guessed,
I could, just barely, see his face.
When I moved in closer still,
five tombstones there surrounded me
and chanting in the night air filled
the prophecies of mystery.
On this day so prophesied,
chanting of a thousand witches
would raise the dead from all the tombs,
all the morgues and crypts and ditches.
At the stroke of twelve, or so,
while stirring fast strange witches brew,
their voices filled the midnight hour
and chanted 'til the stroke of two.
Potions, cauldrons, signs of death,
raised my hair, as I held my breath.
"Ravens, Banshees, Owls and Trolls,
raise the bones of forty souls."
Witches moved to form an arc
and in the center placed the man,
then dripped the blood of forty larks
that severed both his lifeless hands.
When the chanting nearly ceased
his hands began to fly like bats
and to the air white doves released,
soon followed by black howling cats.
Beyond fear I was a wreck.
I told my feet to pick up steam,
but one hand grabbed me 'round the neck
on this the darkest Halloween.
So, next time as you walk alone,
in the dark, on a moonlit night,
remember the rest of his bones,
are out there to fill you with fright.
The witches "Sign of the Five,"
are points of a star bringing death.
At this moment you're still alive,
while I am still catching my breath.
Each Halloween, at midnight,
his body still roams, that's no joke.
His hands are still able to fly,
and next time they'll fly at your throat.

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