October falls and lanterns lurk
And streets are strewn with red
A man peers out into the murk
As not all ghosts are dead.
A whisper rap upon the door
His eyes, they pool with fear
And children’s voices shake his core,
They’ve never been so near.
His window view fills him with dread,
As figures mount the screen
And terror shrouds his weary head
For ghosts are never seen.
A witch, a wolf, a home-made mouse
Swarm eagerly to see
The man who lives in Cobweb House
Concealed behind the tree.
The witch’s eyes meet his and lock
A moment froze in time
He tries to speak, reduced to mime
His voice crumbles like chalk.
The children shriek in frightful glee
“He looks just like they say!”
Triumphantly, they turn and flee
The man is left in grey.
November falls and young men work
And bakers trade their bread
A man peers out into the murk
As not all ghosts are dead.
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Author:
figuring-it-all-out (
Offline) - Published: October 4th, 2021 14:32
- Category: Sad
- Views: 39
- Users favorite of this poem: Mariel Ilagan
Offline)
Comments3
I absolutely love this! I wish I could be so creative. 🥰
Thank you so much for your feedback 🥰
Not too sure about all the weird content, but I'm a sucker for a decent rhymer....
Welcome to MPS and keep 'em coming.
‘Weird’ is a compliment to me 😎 thanks for the feedback!
That's fine; a very subjective opinion.
a clever poem, and a great read
thanks for sharing
Thanks so much 😊
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