Tag Archives: Halloween

As You Speak, So Shall You Be

(Poem 305 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/sqqZdi

There once was a girl
who was very mean;
she pushed her brother
and refused to clean.

She did not feed the cat
and yelled at her dad;
she hit her mother
and broke things when mad.

One day she yelled
at a little old lady
who was sitting alone
in a spot that was shady.

The girl demanded
the woman give up the spot
because the sun was up
and she was very hot.

So the little old lady
gave up her prime seat,
but rather than thank her
or say something sweet,

the little girl screamed,
“You’re ugly and old!”
And the woman turned ‘round
with a look that was cold.

Her face transformed
to a monstrous sight,
and the mean little girl
was filled with fright.

“Your very own words,”
the scary witch said,
“now apply to you
until the day you are dead.”

The little girl gasped
and ran to her room
where she looked in a mirror
and was filled with doom.

No longer young looking,
her skin was lined;
she could hardly see,
as if she was going blind.

Her bones hurt,
and her joints ached;
her hair was white
and her hands quaked.

She climbed into bed
and fell into mourning.
For all naughty children,
let this be a warning.

@Home Studio – 305th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Little Old Girl photos to accompany my poem:

Swinging Darkness

(Poem 304 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/wqbG9c

If you ever see a swing
gently swaying
and no one appears
to be on it, know that
monsters cloak
themselves in darkness
that cannot reach
our eyes so they can
play without scaring us.

@Home Studio – 304th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Monster Swing photos to accompany my poem:

My Grandson Michael Myers

(Poem 297 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photograph by Rebekah Marshall – Julian as Michael Myers

What is wrong with children these days?

My grandson’s goal in life is to either
scare me or disgust me
and my reaction must be over the top.

He just turned 6.

How does he even know who Michael Myers is?
Can we turn the clock back to dinosaurs
and race cars, Frozen and Trolls?

At least he had the decency to explain
to me that he is wearing a costume and he
is not the real Michael Myers.
He went on to explain that there isn’t even
a real Michael Myers because he’s pretend,
so no children will be killed in this process.
I appreciated the reassurance.

@Home Studio – 297th poem of the year

Lake House

(Poem 296 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/HJ1Rsf

A lake house
seemed such a romantic
idea, a place for respite
when the world
overwhelmed.
Little did I know,
when I bought
the place,
she had her own ideas.

The first time we stayed,
our dog disappeared.

The second time,
my husband got injured.

The third time was when
we began to see
that the house
was unwelcoming us,
for she moved to the
middle of the lake
in the night
and we nearly
drowned in our sleep.

We tried once more
when she moved
back to land,
to visit and do some repairs.
She started a fire
and we barely escaped,
so now she’s on the
market again.

I realize now
why she was so affordable,
and I almost feel guilty
selling her.
But now we have so many
medical and therapy bills
to pay, that we need
to recoup some of our loss.

@Home Studio – 296th poem of the year

Haunted House

(Poem 295 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/eoKAqu

There once was a house
with a fence in the woods
where the children never dared to go.

They believed in a tale
full of spooky old ghosts
and wolves whose eyes would glow.

One Halloween Eve
in a game of Truth or Dare
some children ended up at the gate.

They were laughing so loud
that they did not even see
the ghost who would decide their fate.

She watched them push
one terrified little boy
to enter the yard and ring the bell.

The poor boy cried
as he walked to the porch
each step like a hollow death knell.

The ghost howled
which alerted the wolves
eager for a scrumptious evening meal.

The boy who was forced
to touch the haunted house
was the only child who survived the ordeal.

@Home Studio – 295th poem of the year