I AM A WOUND..... - by Shradha Kamra

I AM A WOUND..... by  Shradha  Kamra -  India I am a wound. I am frightened, Even of the cool breeze. The same That lightens every heart, Deepens my pain. The same That shortens every path, Greatens my fear. There is injury , deep inside. Some strange waves , in the damaged eyes Still waiting... As if they know, Something there, is sure to come. Something.. That they desire..

THE LAST TEAR - by John Tren

THE  LAST  TEAR by John Tren The winds of this emotional wasteland steadily blow Leaving tearful trails upon my reddened cheeks I reflect upon such a painful past Of a tattered landscape littered with spent hopes Oh God…… these tears are filled with overwhelming grief The guilt is heavy with each breathless sob For I failed to perceive their irretrievable loss And so profound is this sorrow I keep……… For this very reason, I carry a broken heart Consumed by a numbing and emotional static While I gaze upon life's black and white memories Now and forever, stained by the contrasts of insanity My last tear has fallen upon this barren stretch As I navigate these ruins with a deliberate caution Upon the rising sun, I leave my darkness behind And take another step towards the dim light of hope

LIFE - by Stephanie Ann Dickerson

LIFE by Stephanie Ann Dickerson Autumn leaves have no color The grass isn't green at all No one jumps at the roar of thunder You never hear the Robin's call The old pond's water is no longer clear The spring that lies deep in the forest is gone Spring doesn't seem to bring us cheer As it has done for so long We no longer feel the winter's bitter cold Or it's wicked snow Until Spring has had time to unfold Life will have no where to go

 

HELLO, HALLOWEEN - by Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson

HELLO,   HALLOWEEN by  Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson It’s almost midnight On All Hallow’s Eve And I’m here to seduce, Entrance and deceive Tonight I come calling, a nightmarish creature – You’ll cling to the stories You’ve been told by your preachers Who tell you that ghouls Are all in the mind, But watch out for my presence Amongst man-unkind Creeping and crawling, I live for this night – I’m a monster most hideous, My first name is Fright I’m the truth of your nightmares, The terror is sheer And scaring you senseless Fills me with cheer I’m the presence Who inhabits your dreams I’m alive in your deep, Darkest screams I exist to appall you, Immerse you in fear And my day of wakening Is now, it’s right here This one night in autumn I visit from hell Where I have been watching you, I know you quite well I’ve waited so patiently For this Halloween So I can show you my real face, Gaunt, slimy, green When you first lay your eyes On the terrible me, You’ll know I’m black evil, But won’t believe what you see Shapeless and hopeless, I do not exist In the time-space continuum In which you persist I’m other-dimensional, Invisible, huge My lips aren’t quite white, My cheeks smeared with rouge My hair’s writhing reptiles, My nails twisted and curled My breath stinks of Hades – I’m so not of your world I slither through shadows, I suck the life from your dreams I slurp up your terror And munch on your screams You can shutter your windows Padlock each door You still won’t be safe – I’ll rise up through your floor At midnight, I’ll seize you And drag you away – You’ll never see the light Of All Hallow’s Day

MY HALLOWEEN SECRET - by Babs Cunningham

MY  HALLOWEEN  SECRET by  Babs Cunningham I remember counting down the days until Halloween Thinking for weeks about what costume I wanted Begging my Mom and changing my mind a thousand times Being a princess, a gypsy, or a cat They didn't have as many choices in the 60's Getting dressed to go trick-or-treating While it was still light outside Knowing how quickly the dusk Would envelope our excursion Mom would stay at home While Dad would go with us from house to house Back then, every porch light was on If the weather was ever cold I don't remember I never remember being scared Only happily excited I will never forget the Halloween When it rained during the day Our treat bags were made of paper back then My bag got so heavy with treats That I had to drag it on the ground By the time I got home All the candy was gone Lost out of a hole in the bottom of the sack I had to share my brother's treats Walking home from school the next day I saw the treats I had lost And collected them in my pocket It was my Halloween secret That I could cherish forever

AUTUMN - by Marinela Reka

AUTUMN by Marinela Reka Autumn is the season When leaves go different colours Some are yellow and some red And there are some others Autumn is the season When all the leaves Start to fall off From all the beautiful trees Autumn is the season When it starts to be cold Autumn is the season When a new year becomes old

 

THE LEAVES OF FALL - by Andrea Paola Barraza

THE LEAVES OF FALL by Andrea Paola Barraza - Colombia Yesterday, I was small, strong, and green. Today, I am big, old and weak. Soon the wind will take me away into an eternity of travel till I dilute away. Pieces of life will Fall. One after another, one place for all. They will shine, reborn, and be strong again. All waits for the next beginning, for it's all a cycle of travel and wait. The leaves of Fall.

HALLOWEEN - TUBE / PNG

MY NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR IS A WITCH - by Samiya Vallee

MY  NEXT  DOOR  NEIGHBOR  IS  A  WITCH   by  Samiya Vallee My next door neighbor is a witch, And she lives way down in a ditch. Her clothing is a little strange, Because she never wants to change. She has a black robe and a black hat, Green skin and a smelly black cat. A big fat wart grows on her nose, And seventeen pimples on her toes. But...her food is EVEN worse, Because she eats it course by course. Her first course is seven dead bats, Laid on top of seven rats. Then she has twenty flies With lots and lots of llama eyes. Her main course is a horrible soup, Because it's made with doggie poop. But worst of all is her dessert. It's little children rolled in dirt. Last night she had a witch's feast And turned into a greedy beast. I think she cooked my best friend Tilly And ate her with some peas and broccoli. V

TIME - by Rebecca L. West

TIME by Rebecca L. West Time is an essence we take for granted it passes us by, we don't realize it Time is the past some wish to forget The future of our lives we want to collect We go through life regretting events we want to replay them because of repent When a moment goes by that we fail to take heed That moment is gone we did not succeed When we are old we absorb the meaning of time The majority of our lives are gone we want our youth it's not a crime When a loved one dies we want to be with them again that is when you realize that their lives have come to an end Make the most of the time you will never have again Make the most of life's experiences in every way and appreciate every minute of every hour of everyday

THE COURTEOUS PRINCE - Scottish legend

Once upon a time a bonnie Prince fell in love with a lassie who was nobly born, but was not his equal in rank. The king was sorely vexed, because his son looked with favour on this maiden, and his majesty determined to part the lovers. He sent the high chancellor of the court to an old witch for advice. After thinking the matter over for nine days, the old woman muttered the following answer:

“The lassie will I charm away

’Till courtesy doth win the day.”

“I’m not quite sure what the old hag means,” said the king. “But if she’ll get this maiden out of the Prince’s sight, I can arrange for his marriage with some one of his own rank.”

In a few days the lassie disappeared, and the Prince could find no trace of her. He was very sad, indeed, and declared if he could not [Pg 308]marry his own true love he would remain single all his life.

It happened one fine day near the end of October that the young Prince and a party of nobles went hunting. The hounds were soon on the track of a fine deer, which was so wily and fleet of foot that the nobles, one by one, lost track of the quarry, and dropped out of the chase. The young Prince, who was a famous rider, continued the hunt alone. Miles and miles over the low hills he galloped until at last in the depths of a wooded glen the exhausted deer was brought to bay by the hounds, and dispatched by the Prince.

Not until after the prize was won did the royal hunter realize how dusky it was in the glen, and how threatening the evening sky looked. He felt sure he was too far from the palace to retrace his journey; besides, he had lost all trace of direction. He threw the quarry over his steed’s back, whistled to his hounds, and rode slowly down the wooded valley, wondering where he could lodge for the night.

“Little sign of hospitality in this lonely place,” he mused. “Perhaps I’d better make the best of it, and find shelter in one of the rocky hollows.”

On he rode in the gathering darkness. A turn in the valley brought him to a stretch of moorland, and a little distance away he saw the dark outline of an old, deserted hunting hall.

“A cheerless looking inn,” thought the Prince. “No doubt one will have to play host as well as guest here. However, I have my trusty hounds and noble steed for company, and the quarry will furnish a good meal for all of us.”

He leaped from his horse and walked up to the old ruin. With very little effort he broke open the door. The creaking of its rusty hinges made strange echoings throughout the hall. The Prince led his horse into one of the small rooms, then with his hounds he went into the large dining hall, where he lit a fire on the great hearth, and proceeded to cook some venison for supper.

While he was waiting for the meat on the spit to roast, he listened to the rising wind, which moaned about the gloomy old ruin, and rattled the doors and windows unceasingly. The good steed, in the adjoining room, pawed the floor restlessly, and every few moments the hounds stretched their heads straight up into the air, and whined in a most uncanny way.

As he mused before the fire, the Prince thought, “This is All Hallowe’en, the night when ghosts and witches hold their revels. Nevertheless, I’d rather be in this deserted hall than on the storm-swept moorland.”

He took the roasted meat from the fire, and prepared to eat his supper. Suddenly a fierce blast of wind burst open a large door at the far end of the hall, and into the room stalked a tall, ghostly woman. Her lank figure was clothed in grey garments, which trailed for yards on the floor. Her long, grey hair hung loose down her back. By the light of the flickering fire the Prince could see her hollow eyes and wan features. He was a brave man, but this ghostly creature filled him with dread and horror. The hounds dropped their bones of venison, and crept close to their master, who was unable to utter a word.

Slowly down the hall the grey ghost glided to the Prince, and pointing a long, bony finger at him, she asked in a hollow voice, “Art thou a courteous knight?”

In a trembling voice the Prince answered, “I will serve thee. What dost thou wish?”

“Go ye to the moorland, and pluck enough heather to make a bed in the turret-room for me,” said the phantom-like figure.

It was a strange request to make, but the Prince was relieved to have any excuse to get out of her sight. He sprang quickly to his feet, and hurried out to face the stormy night in search of heather. He plucked as much as he could carry in his plaid, and returned to the hall where the ghostly visitor was waiting for him. She led the way down the room, and up a half-ruined staircase to the turret-room. Here the Prince spread a heather bed for her, and covered it with his plaid. When it was finished she pointed to the door, and dismissed him.

“May you sleep well,” said the Prince courteously. Then, cold and weary, he descended to the hall, and lay down to sleep in front of the dying embers of the fire.

When he awakened the bright sun was shining in the windows.

The Prince lost no time in making ready to depart, for he remembered quite well the ghostly visitor of the past night.

“No doubt she departed before the crowing of the cock,” he said. “I wonder if she left my bonnie plaid in the turret room. The autumn air is keen and biting. I’ll go and see.”

He ran quickly up the ruined staircase. To his surprise when he reached the top, the door of the chamber opened, and there before him stood his lost sweetheart.

“How camest thou here?” gasped the Prince. “And where is the grey ghost.”

“Last night I was the grey ghost,” she said.

“And thou wilt change thy form again to-night?” he asked in horror.

“Never again,” said the maiden. “In order to part us a wicked witch threw a spell over me, a spell which changed me into the awful shape thou sawest last night. But thou hast broken her wicked charm.”

“Tell me how,” said the Prince, whose face was beaming with happiness.

“The witch’s charm could not be broken until some knight should serve me, even though my form was horrible. By thy courtesy thou hast broken the spell,” said the maiden.

So the Prince and his true love rode away, and were happily married, and when the king heard of his son’s adventure in the hunting hall he said, “Now I know what that old witch meant by her prophecy.”