Well, it’s almost time for Halloween, the favorite holiday of ghosts and satanists alike (also candy-enjoying children). To celebrate this festival of the dead I’m busting out the poetry.

And of course, haikus are way easy, so I’ll warm up with them:

1) Go Trick or Treating
But do not forget to bring
some kind of chainsaw

2) Meet the Living Dead
They like to eat your loved ones
And probably you

3) I met Frankenstein
He and I got in a fight
It did not end well

4) Jason and Freddy
Would appreciate the chance
to kill yo mama

5) If I were a ghost
I’d hang around the living
So I could mock them

Okay, now I’m feeling ready to poetrize. We’ll start with a poem I dedicate to someone special out there with the message “Always be your shelf”. You know who you are. (At least I hope you do, because I sure don’t.)

Once there was a ghost
Who hid in a bush and waited
To scare a little boy

Once there was a boy
Who got scared and urinated
Which scared the ghost away

And I’ll finish with a little epic that I like to call:

The Mummy Sucks At Scrabble

It was a Friday night
Just like all the rest,
Except that Jim the Zombie
Was expecting special guests.

First came Vince the Vampire,
Followed by a ghost named Artie.
Then came Max the Mummy,
To the Undead Scrabble Party.

the players took their seats
Around the gaming board,
And reached into a little bag
In which letters were stored.

Vince got to go first,
and used the word “Ichor”.
After him went Artie,
Getting a triple word score.

The Mummy saw his choices
As Jim layed his pieces down.
He had nothing to work with
And could therefore only frown.

The zombie had made “Brains”
Using Ichor’s “R”.
Max was disappointed’
All he could spell was “car”.

Vince got to put down “Aorta”
And Artie got to use “Sheets”.
Jim put down “decompose”
Which was an amazing feat.

Max wished he had more vowels
Or at least an R or J
Building off of “Aorta”
He put down the word “bay”

More turns went by in similar fashion
Max the mummy couldn’t win.
The other scores were oh so high,
Max’s wasn’t ten.

As time ticked on and it got late,
The game neared completion.
Vince reached into the bag
And noted the letters’ depletion.

In the end, the zombie won,
And the mummy came in last.
Pretty much as it had always been,
All the times in the past.

But Max had no hard feelings,
As he went home to take a nap,
For he may suck at Scrabble,
But they all suck at rap.

 

Patrick D Ryall, the D is for Scars
Originally placed on Contains2 Monday 28 October 2002

Comments from Contains2:

Karen
October 28th, 2002 at 2:29 pm
Well done Pat!! Very impressive poetry!!

Mike
October 28th, 2002 at 11:33 pm

Hahaha, these poems are sweet.
If I could write so, it’d be a great feat.

“Meet the living dead”
Thinks Pat’s giant head,

But all the while I just see a ghost
And it mocks me even more than most.

No poems for me,
Oh how can this be?

If only I could rhyme,
But I haven’t the time!

This comment – too long,
They’ve sounded the gong.

Goodnight Zombie poets,
Rhymes with Pombie zoets.

Karen
October 28th, 2002 at 11:50 pm
ha ha!! I liked the last rhyme the best!! Yay Mike!

?arah Weeee….i mean Bee
October 29th, 2002 at 6:53 pm
This poems make me want to wrap myself in tinfoil and proclaim myself leftovers.