A Halloween Invitation to ALL from ghouls, wizards, goblins, witches, vampires, bats, mummies, ghosts, cats, werewolves, skeletons, monsters, and even the Grim Reaper to partake in the treat of reading a tricky poem or two:
Dare to glimpse more ghoulish poetry at: http://canvaswerks.com/halloweengallery....
Halloween means "holy evening" because it takes place the night before All Saints Day, yet the two have very little to do with one another.
Dark magic and sacred superstitions waft throughout the Halloween holiday. Long, so long ago, the Druids, an ancient order of priests, believed that on Halloween, ghosts and spirits haunted the earth, and that black cats stalked the streets, who were really humans being punished for evil deeds, Of course, there was always the sharp nip or two from thirsty vampires, the eerie cry of the Raven echoing through the pitch starless sky, and werewolves always ended the night with full bellies.
As the web of tales weaved into legends, it seems history repeats this belief as various poets write of this ghoulish night of spooks and howls:
Spirits of the Dead
By Edgar Allen Poe
Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.
The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.
Notice the cryptic references that spirits lure others with. Poe's rhythm creates a lyrical sound that mellows one's skepticism; spooked words cast hollow images that flicker, leading readers to paths far beyond this world.
If you dare to peruse the rest of Poe's poem at the following site, be sure to return for more: http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Acropoli...
The crooked paths lead to graveyards and bones, yet not all skeletons instill fear as they rattle. Some still rattle in fear as they click far away:
I'm Skeleton
By Lillian Moore
I'm the local skeleton,
who walks this
street.
This is my beat.
Beware!
I'm not very hairy
but I scare
everyone I meet.
People quiver
when they see me.
They flee me!
They shiver
if they must walk
alone.
Oops, there's a dog,
I must run.
His tail has a wag.
