The Halloween countdown continues.
I've a firm belief that we are shaped by the time of year we are born. Being born in the fall I'm smitten by the colorful falling leaves, the smell of fires shifting on the breeze, the Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas Holidays, etc. This is the time of the year that I feel most excited to be alive. My roommate has joined in the spirit as well, decking out the house in Halloween fare. I create Halloween soundtracks, jot down ideas for spooky tales, and put on Death Becomes Her or the the old Night Gallery series.
I've never considered myself a poet, though I like how this particular one turned out. This was an assignment in my college poetry class several years ago. The ending needs help but here it is in the rough.
Requiem for the House of Never
Spring-heeled JackWith a whiskey sourRamparts and bramblesRaped by wisteria vinesMurder, Murder most foulOn the back of London’s HydeCrickets howlThrough dank recesses of evils’ RipperSouls tattered,Requiem residence in wistful horrorThe Soul Net torn