Monday, November 3, 2014

A little late but a great Hallowe'en poem.

Hallowe'en is my least favourite holiday now. Not when I was a kid. Then it was all about sugar, tacky home-made costumes and the magic of running around with other kids after dark.  Yes, there were a few scary ghost and skeleton decorations but jack o' lanterns, witches, owls, and black cats ruled in orange and black.  

But in later years, death and gore have taken over the holiday, making it more gruesome.  Children are now treated to decomposing body parts, pots of blood, and yawning graves with decaying corpses as they move from house to house.  It is as if the horror movies and the vampire novels have hijacked the holiday.

 Travelling through the southwest USA, I almost missed picking up this poem by Martin Hicks. At last, with computer hooked up, I pass it on.

Even after the holiday, a great poem in the true, but now lost,  Hallowe'en spirit.


Dank halloween fresh candles flutter,
Weird costumes flit adown dark street,
Crisp fallen leaves fill grass and gutter
Witch child disperses with dragged feet.

Wedge moon looms yellow slice of butter,
Whole neighbourhood at front doors meet,
Orange pumpkin leers nearby proud cutter,
Ghosts haul full sacks, cry trick-or-treat.

by Martin Hicks

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