Welcome to My Poetry Site

275,830 poems read

Phantom File Cloak of Truth
Edited by: Icky the eyeball scratcher

Steer clear of the dark, spooky times

Are near and thus withers are those

Things that scare us the most, but let’s

Not dwell too heavily on such matters

For now and instead, concentrate on

Candy and cakes, sugar bats, frosted

Frogs and delicious grave diggers

Belly buttons dipped in beetroot juice.

On the point of grave diggers, these

Poor souls must be quite annoyed when

Once a year all their work is undone and

The dead rise from their resting places to

Walk amongst us giving the witches aloft

On the same night a run for their money.

A night, when there is much to be said

For the company of friends, particularly

When enjoying a long walk in the dark

Dank woods of desperate misgiving or

Some other cobwebby destination best

Avoided such as; basements, dark alleys

Bedevilled lanes near ancient graveyards

And abandoned churches long-lost of

Their God.

From out of the trees at considerable

Speed, came a candle, two bats and

A frog, a spit-angry owl still out on the

Prowl, flew low to ask ‘what’s going on?’

The candle spoke first in carbonized

Verse, soot black, not a match within reach,

The wick and the wax had a panic attack,

Wot! No light on All Hallows’ Eve?’

The bats felt the same as they huddled

In shame, not as brave as they’d like to

Pretend, nor a night to be out with witches

About, in the dark, on your own, without


The frog had good reason to avoid

Hallowe’enin’, its entrails a vampires

Delight, its guts and its gizzard are

Eaten by wizards, with eyeballs and

Cold spider tripe.

Leg of frog, lung of bat, coffin’ liquor,

Half a glass, dead man’s dentures,

Tongue, and spleen, pint of blood,

Increase the heat, bring to boil, add

Warts and worms, simmer gently,

Cool and serve.

© Joseph G Dawson