by Michael J. Smajda
Never again on a Halloween night
Will I ever go near a graveyard site.
For when last I did, this is what I saw
Zombie-like creatures, large and small,
Ascending from their graves, one by one,
Moaning and groaning in unison,
Wandering about like flocks of blind sheep,
Relieved to be awakened from years of dead sleep.
Having never seen corpses upright before,
Much less, decomposed, I viewed them in horror.
And seeing skeletons still wearing their coffin best,
Did very little to slow the heart in my chest
From rapidly pounding all due to the fright
That overwhelmed my being this October night.
But just when I was about to flee from these grounds,
A gruesome figure appeared with two gutless hounds
That, also, had been entombed for many-a-day,
Heading socket-less eyes, too, smelling of decay.
While the mongrels wagged their tails of bones in glee,
This one ghoulish member of the vast cemetery
Started, with a wave of his badly deformed hand,
The humming of fright songs only dead understand.
And they did so to the music played by a dire crew,
Who never played instruments or their notes, too.
And what I saw more horrific and not by chance,
Most of the dead paired off and began to dance.
The musicians played tunes only partners could hear,
Each woman was a princess, each man a cavalier,
Waltzing and fast-stepping as they once did in life
When many lived together as husband and wife.
From behind a tombstone, I was watching all of this
When a depraved youth spied me, sputtering a hiss,
Alerting all ghastly heads to look toward my place,
Frightening me so, sheer terror disfigured my face.
From all sides, they came with frothy mouths agape,
Circling my being so as no way could I escape,
And deny them their craving for the blood in my veins,
They would be sipping along with my flesh and brains.
Conceding the fact I was their Halloween treat
And their numbers too many for me to defeat,
My only recourse was to resist to the end
Their attempts to devour me like some uncooked hen.
Soon as one reached out to claw away at my clothes,
I crazily fought back fisting defending blows
For I had no intention to be like all these knaves
That death confined eternally to spooky-like graves.
Just about the time I thought my end was near,
Their assaults abruptly stopped, just why was unclear.
Then, I recalled what living dead feared most at night,
Which, was, now, the obvious presence of raying daylight.
Hurriedly, they shuffled back to their former state
While I, as quickly, exited passed burial ground’s gate,
Vowing never again to ever be seen
Lurking about cemeteries during Halloween.
© 2003 Michael J. Smajda