Poetry Treats and Tricks!

A goblin lives in our house,
All the year round.

He bumps, he jumps,
And he stumps,
He knocks and he rocks,
And he rattles at the locks.

A goblin lives in our house,
In our house, in our house,
A goblin lives in our house
All the year round.
http://www.jeannepasero.com/hallow2.html

What better house for goblins to live than a haunted house, indeed! The perfect place is created by a noted short story writer. Thus, the following is a narrative poem that incorporates the imagery of Halloween so very succinctly.

The Haunted Palace by Edgar Allen Poe

In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace-
Radiant palace- reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion-
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This- all this- was in the olden
Time long ago,)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.
Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well-befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
For the entire poem click: http://www.jeannepasero.com/hauntedpalac...

Once at the palace, beware of the Phantom, the goblins too. While we await the presence of others, have some bubbly witches brew! (Which, by the way, the lady of the house had to go out for a few more goodies)

Witch Goes Shopping by Lillian Moore

Witch rides off
Upon her broom
Finds a space
To park it.
Takes a shiny shopping cart
Into the supermarket.
Smacks her lips and reads
The list of things she needs:
"Six bats' wings
Worms in brine
Ears of toads
Eight or nine.
Slugs and bugs
Snake skins dried
Buzzard innards
Pickled, fried."

Rest of poem found at http://www.jeannepasero.com/witchshop.ht...

The poet rhymes a line with another, not in any structural order. However, this offers readers an off-beat rhythm, and I just cannot want for the sizzlin' treats! Of course, a trick or two would be nice! Thus, here I'll take my leave, broomstick revving . . .

Ah, then who should I bump into but

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

Join me as I

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