Goblins, gremlins, ghosts, galore
tricksters, treaters: not anymore.
Parties, parades, toffees, galore
masks, costumes, gowns to adore.
My black teeth sharp anticipating gore
I’m up on a chair behind the door
wielding something special in store.
So whatever you do, I implore
don’t you dare enter my yard
since you won’t leave unscarred.
Hee. Hee. Hey! ****** ******
Whatever neat and clever your riddle
my axe will split you down the middle.
Though you scream, squirm and squeal
You kids will be my very next meal.
Tobias
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 7:33 AM UTC
Goblins, gremlins, ghosts, galore
tricksters, treaters: not anymore.
Parties, parades, toffees, galore
masks, costumes, gowns to adore.
My black teeth sharp anticipating gore
I’m up on a chair behind the door
wielding something special in store.
So whatever you do, I implore
don’t you dare enter my yard
since you won’t leave unscarred.
Hee. Hee. Hey! ****** ******
Whatever neat and clever your riddle
my axe will split you down the middle.
Though you scream, squirm and squeal
You kids will be my very next meal.
Tobias
A grateful nod to Christopher P. Wyman and other Halloween themed poems by HP poets.
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