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I'll meet her again...It’s Samhain. The line between the spirit
world and our own is a ray of moonlight.
It’s the night when the reluctant soul sticks
to our plane, hovering - a withered rose
whose beauty is the figment of a dream;
a gleam gilding the surface of the lake.

For long hours of idyll would the Lake
poets revel in letting their spirit
soar free on the nightingale’s wings, and dream
of glimpsing their Muse clad in pure moonlight –
but tonight magic’s afoot: clouds just rose
to blur the moon like fumes from incense sticks.

The Romantics’ habit of rambling sticks
to minI'll meet her again...4 years ago in Sestina-ween

The Spectre That WasThe Spectre That Was

Out I went, searching for a spectre
That would prove to my not so limp
Opposition that something was. Into the night
I sent forth thought after crystal
Thought, only to have them shatter into crimson
Shards of laughing, lightning silver.

Sometimes, though a sliver of silver
Specks would spatter a lovely spectre
Of my ambition onto a dull crimson
Reflection of a crushed,limp,
Me. Light upon light of crystal
I shine, but everything is swallowed into the night.

I am not a disciple of the night,
Its shadows scare me silver
And white while chiming alarms of crystal,
Make my body separate from its spectre.
MeanThe Spectre That Was4 years ago in Sestina-ween

All Hallows' EveShe leaps and whirls to a ritual beat,
Bare feet kicking loose the earth;
None of us, idle by, know her name,
Or why, on Halloween, she comes -
Each year, the same slow night
Each year, her same swift sway.

No vaulted stars illuminate her way,
Lulled or snake-charmed by the beat
Resounding in this deep-well night;
Perhaps they, like us, crashed to earth,
To this place where dream-touched come,
To this place which has no name.

She mouths and mimes the names
Of the countless many who lost their way;
Those who would not, could not come
And herald thunder's echoing drum-beat:
Her hard footfalls on the loam and earth,
Her hard foAll Hallows' Eve4 years ago in Sestina-ween

Post-ghost Toast.One day I saw a ghost
A-sitting on a post,
And he was eating toast,
Not any kind of roast,
So I was feeling grossed
By this ghost with the most.

He really was the most
Face-stuffing, greedy ghost
That got completely grossed
Out while perching on a post
(A skewer for a roast)
By eating red hot toast.

Crumbs fell down from this toast,
And down on me the most,
Till I began to roast,
Shake my fist at the ghost,
All safe up on his post,
Not caring I was grossed.

While I was getting grossed
By bits of burning toast,
I kicked hard at the post,
At the weakest point most,
To dislodge this mean ghost
And hoping not to roast.

YesPost-ghost Toast.4 years ago in Sestina-ween

White RainI am insane. In haunted house alone
I wander. Silent, patient... and I wait.
I wish that someone came and shared my pain.
And who am I? Some entity unknown?
I think... I think complexion mine is white,
I am quite sure I like the sound of rain.

The silver scatter sound... oh yes, the rain.
I cannot count the times I've stood alone
The world around me rain-bleached pure and white.
But why I stand? For whom I always wait?
What is my present? What my past? Not known.
And so I am in numb and tiring pain.

It is familiar now... I was in pain
Some time before but never knew I rain...
Still water, though, yes, that for me is known.
I thWhite Rain4 years ago in Sestina-ween

His Oath of FealtyWHEN vaunted skies were torn asunder,
vast mountains stood with faces grave,
then thunder rolled in waves so shrill
fast became their frightened eyes.
Surge thus from moste despairing dungeon:
emerge, you foul-perilous fiend.

Feet canker-ridden, this grotesque fiend
(whose flesh hung, 'twas shred asunder)
beat his chest; limping from dank dungeon
muse in his arms. Features grave,
pale as frost, and see her vacant eyes
rail at death – had she once screamed shrill?

Stately castle echoed weeping shrill…
but who may say? Odious fiend,
greatly quiv'ring body, his eyes
cut at each edge. Asunder
were the stepping stonesHis Oath of Fealty4 years ago in Sestina-ween

A Night in the Cemetary.."Bet you won't sleep in the cementary."
Mocked the bedsheet ghost.
"It's Halloween, it's way too scary."
Chimed in the werewolf.
"I'll do it." I said, sounding brave.
But really, I was scared of the dead.

We passed trees, cold and dead
On our way to the cemetary.
Passed bats that looked spooky, knights that looked brave..
But the costumes didn't compare to shadow ghosts.
Or the howls that came from the lips of a werewolf.
When compared with the costumes, they were more scary.

Finally we reached the gates, which only to me seemed scary.
Of course, no one else had to sleep with the dead.
Another howl, another image of a hungry werA Night in the Cemetary..4 years ago in Sestina-ween

To Die Beautiful....She says; “I can still the motion forever, in a moment,
The tireless, and careless carousing of the clock
Who’s hands do trace their gluttonous way
Across the timeless, tempestuous, graceful face
Of my brave and valiant Grandfather Death.
For I'm his favorite Grand-Daughter; mortals call me Age;”

Who’s once-maiden-mouth, now ornery with age
Purses her lips, and then says; “I guard the secret of what is meant
Behind Grandfather’s talk of veils and vestiges of death.”
See, now…how she gestures towards the ticking clock;
Each passing hand leaves a line upon your face
In her you may find hope, To Die Beautiful....4 years ago in Sestina-ween

Trick-or-Treat SestinaTrick –or- Treat Sestina-Ween

The suffocating darkness
Finally creeps in from the
Never ending void called
The sky. It waits so silent
Until the final day is gone
And the moon is out to play

Only at that moment are the
Terrifying ghouls at last called
The air and space is silent
All trace of day is gone
And the stage is set for the play
As it waits a moment in darkness

The creatures have been called
Howls pierce the silent
Air as all peace has gone
The forest will begin to play
Yet in never ending darkness
And the chilling sound of the

Heartbeats racing like feet yet silent
All wish that these devils were gone
As thTrick-or-Treat Sestina4 years ago in Sestina-ween

Sestina: MaskedI'm claustrophobic and cannot wear a mask
it tightens around my face and shifts
to fit every curve of my cheekbone and skin
and the funnel-vision entraps my eyes
while I try to still breathe though
the mouth-hole sits too small on my face.

Every time I disguise my outward face
I feel like I'm wearing that containing mask
which hides my self behind its plaster though
I can still sense every emotional shift.
And through the costume I've put on, my eyes
run red and wide as I'm terrified out of my skin.

I wish that I could put on a different skin
to hide myself and to change my truthful face,
one that was mine and fit, so my wild eySestina: Masked4 years ago in Sestina-ween

Ghosts In OctoberThe night is dark,
The night is cold,
Lit only dimly by the moon,
But light enough to see the ghosts.
It's the end of October
And the night for spooks.

People feel spooked
On this night in the dark.
And they feel cold
In the light of the moon,
Their hearts touched by ghosts,
At the end of October.

Before, in mid-October,
There hadn't been anything spooky
Even though nights had been dark.
Heaters had held off the cold
And bright had been the moon,
Not illuminating any ghosts.

But then had come the ghosts
In the last night of October
And they loved to spook
People in the dark,
Cold
Night with no moon.

Behind his clouds tGhosts In October4 years ago in Sestina-ween

Possession of a HauntingAmidst an accumulation of inhabitants there sways a solitary dancer,
who is affixed to the end of a string;
who moves so gracefully to a ghostly tune
while her silhouette flickers across the floor from a yearning inferno.
Her feet swing round atop an expanse of glass
and sitting below, lying in wait, is the promise of ghosts

They examine with famished eyes, these phantoms
as a possession claims the dancer,
who travels ever faster above the glass;
while threads appear to fray from the string,
and beginning to lick at their ends is a blaze
that is held in place by a paranormal tune

howling and wailing, enchanted by this song,
tPossession of a Haunting4 years ago in Sestina-ween

FrankenSpot: A SestinaMy mother awoke me late one night
with sad news about my loyal dog, Spot,
and I grieved to learn that he was dead
for I loved him deeply from tail to head,
although I had known of the cancerous rot
which plagued that dog with ferocious might.

Some few days later I thought I might
away to his grave in the dead of the night.
I thought to make haste before the rot
destroyed too much of my little dog, Spot,
for I would need that precious brain in his head
if I was to bring my pooch back from the dead.

Night at God's Acre for families' dead
pets, with shovel, flashlight, main, and with might
I bore into Spot's grave mound 'til head
FrankenSpot: A Sestina4 years ago in Sestina-ween

On the Night of Halloween

It is the night of Halloween,
when you can meet a witch
with her pet, a cat,
hanging out with a ghost.
Both have a good laugh
making children scream.

Until a piercing scream
on the night of Halloween
stops people laughing
and drives away the witch,
followed by the ghost,
leaving behind a bewildered cat.

And what should do a cat,
knowing nothing about screams,
not believing in ghosts -
not even on the night of Halloween -
left behind by her witch,
not in the mood to laugh?

Since there is nothing to laugh
about when you are a lonely cat,
missing your witch,
who was scared away with scream.
There is no meaning in Halloween,On the Night of Halloween4 years ago in Sestina-ween

Road-Man SestinaAlone in the country, a dark southern night
headlights stumbling through the misty gray
I saw a figure in the road, and stopped—
though the black pressed against my eyes
I squinted, and though the shape was dim
there was a man on the road, and my heart fell.

I threw open the door, and running almost fell
against the chill of that bitter, awful night
to his side, the suggestion of blood in dim
outline—his skin was a whispering gray
and as I turned him over, opened his eyes!
A horror grabbed my heart, and made it stop.

No human ever looked at me so, the pupils stopped
in transfixing gaze; my soul tumbled and fell
and agaRoad-Man Sestina4 years ago in Sestina-ween

Trick -or- Treat Sestina-WeenThe suffocating darkness
Finally creeps in from the
Never ending void called
The sky. It waits so silent
Until the final day is gone
And the moon is out to play

And the stage is set for the play
As it waits a moment in darkness
Only at that moment are the
Traces of utter calm gone
The air and space is silent
And the terrifying ghouls at last called

So, the creatures have been called
And the forest will begin to play
Howls pierce the silent
Yet never ending darkness
And the craved peace of the
Soundless sunset has gone

All wish that these devils were gone
Empty pockets and friends are called
As little thieves with hands reTrick -or- Treat Sestina-Ween4 years ago in Sestina-ween

The House and the TreeThe House and the Tree
By: Abiola Akinpelu

Scritch! Scratch!
The tree branches scratched the window
The house was old and rickety
121 years ago, the house was built in 1888
The night sky was dark and dreary
It was the night before Halloween.

The night grew short and soon became day
Scritch! Scratch!
The sky was now daylight and shone with beauty
The tree stood still as the bus picked up the children going to school
The house glared at the children as the bus pulled away
Which was old and creaky and haunted, too.

The day went by quickly and was cold very fast
Halloween started at night and the children were ready
The house creaThe House and the Tree4 years ago in Sestina-ween

CandlelightWith wicked eyes and spreading grins
Arrayed for all to see, the squash
Their only witness the good moon
Keep watch among the murky dark
A sudden flare to light the flame
That, sputtering, fires up the night

A match, a match, into the night
Illuminating countless soulless grins
And who has lit that silver flame?
With whose weak light the gloom has squash'd
But still outside there lurks the dark
Beneath the comfort of the moon

Far away in Spring did shine the moon
When ended reign of winter night
In waxing crescents through the dark
She graced the sky, much like a grin
All sick'ning stories did she squash
And made room for theCandlelight4 years ago in Sestina-ween

A time for frightening quests, the lonely night
Drains me of all thoughts, whittling me to my core
I might panic, if I live chances are slim
Plunged into my greatest nightmares, I'm lost
In the wind, carrying leaves red as blood
Away, they will see their fate, far

My dreams are leaves of fall, flowing far
They're lit up with the street lamps at night
Crunching, under my footsteps, writhing in blood
Tossed to the heavens like an apple core
In great quantities, lifted and lost
Their shadows are walking figures, slim

As I watch, they transform, their profiles slim
Into tall humans, their faces reaching far
Into the dark clouds, almSpectres4 years ago in Sestina-ween

Trick or TreatIt was a dark and stormy night
A perfect night for Halloween
The stage was set for causing fright
And ghosties to be seen
All that was needed were children
Who were sure to scream

And oh how they did scream
So many were frightened that night
Big and small, each child
All victims that Halloween
For no one failed to see
The thing which caused such fright

And oh what a fright
And oh the piercing screams
And the horror of having seen
The evil of the night
Set free that Halloween
To terrorise the children

The faces of the children
Ashen from the fright
No more trick or treating that Halloween
Not whilst they still screamed
AnTrick or Treat4 years ago in Sestina-ween

The Witch's BrewWith the end of summer comes Halloween, a time for the bat
to rule the night. Then the cat
will come to play,
if only for the sake of the witch
who stirs her bubbly brew, watching as the spider
weaves on her loom. Nothing's quite as much a treat.

"Of course the real treat
of the night is the scare," says the bat.
"Nothing's quite like that," agrees the spider.
"Oh, I wish you'd give it a rest," sighed the cat
who watched the witch
go on with her spell-play.

Of course magic isn't something with which you play
or else you're in for a trick, not a treat,
soon relearned the witch.
The smoke inhaled by the bat
made him fly into thThe Witch's Brew4 years ago in Sestina-ween

Out My Window - Sestina

As I look out my window
I stare into the dark
All that smiles is the moon
Which creates my shadow
Among the quiet street
Stands a single figure

All that moves is the figure
Who stares at my window
Lights go out in the street
And the world becomes dark
I no longer have my shadow
My only friend is the moon

I am jealous of the moon
For it does not fear the figure
And it needs no shadow
All I have is my window
So I may see the dark
That I see in the street

Now across the street
Clouds pass the moon
And gives advantage to the dark
But I can see the figure
He is at my window
Covered in his shadow

I wish I had my shOut My Window - Sestina4 years ago in Sestina-ween

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