People waste,
but we don’t take,
we do what is good,
but some are disappointing.
Remember,
not to waste,
or you’ll be chased.
Poems
‘Twas the Night Before Halloween
4
November 22, 2019
by
‘Twas the night before Halloween when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring – not even a louse,
The pumpkins were placed outside houses to scare
The monsters away, with their glowing-gold stare,
The spiders were nestled and ready to creep
While Frankenstein’s monster had woken from sleep
And Dracula in his cape, and I in my hat,
Had just sunk our teeth in a lovely, fresh rat.
When over in the mansion there arose such a chatter,
I jumped from the table – leaving the platter,
Away to the mansion I sped with a crash,
And knocked over my chair with a bash and a smash.
The moon on the horizon of the village of Glow,
Shone its enchanting self on the village below,
When what to my curious eyes should appear,
But seven sly monsters from the atmosphere,
With bubbling potions, so quick and so slick,
I knew right then, each one was a witch,
More sneaky than foxes, on their broom sticks – they came,
And they cackled their song (it is always the same)
Now witches, now witches, all of you listen!
To the village, to give every human a potion!
To the centre of the village, to the houses – to all,
Soar away, fly away, speed away – do not stall!
As the pumpkins before the witches’ cry,
Shoot their evil, their glowing and candlelit eye,
To the village the cheeky witches – they flew,
With brooms full of potions and cauldrons to brew,
Then in a blink of an eye I heard a poof!
And witches were landing upon every roof,
I got myself together, looked up from the ground,
And then saw lots of things which were familiarly round,
They were all bright orange from their head to their foot,
And they had a scarily evilly look,
Hands, legs, and toes are what they all lacked,
And they looked truly terrifying in a stack!
Their eyes – – how they glowed! Their teeth how scary,
Their plumpness how funny – like a juicy-fat berry
to be continued…
Unknown
2
November 22, 2019
by
aged
This poem is unknown
A poem of mystery
You’re wondering what this is about
while you are reading this
Maybe you’re bored
Depressed
Happy
Inspired
Feel the way you want
I could be writing about a lush summer day
With trips to the beach, collecting shells,
feeling sand beneath your feet.
I could be writing about homework
The everlasting pile
The long, winding essays
I could be writing about a beast
Large and unknown, that nobody knows exists
Right under your nose or nowhere
I could be writing about snow
Flakes of ice scattered all around
The thrill when you see the blanket of white
I could be writing about romance
A sweet summer’s day when hearts clash
You don’t know when
I could . . .
But I’m not going to. The unknown is what you make it.
Inspiration is all around you
Lying Dead on the Battlefield
0
November 22, 2019
by
aged
When you see the cenotaph
You know we had a path
Which lead to death
And now we are forever left
Lying dead on the battlefield
We lie in sorrow
Where the poppies grow
And we were so scared
For that we perished
Lying dead on the battlefield
Seasons
6
November 14, 2019
by
aged
When spring comes
everything is glamorous.
Birds are singing
as well as flowers.
When summer comes
the grass is yellow as the sun.
Its very, very warm
as warm as my heart.
When summer ends
autumn comes.
Leaves fall from the trees
all day and night,
crunchy as a pigskin.
Finally winter is here!
We wait for snow, Christmas Day and Eve.
When Santa comes
he might eat your Christmas biscuit,
and if you are lucky
you might hear him say: “Ho, ho, ho…”.