Halloween - Jenny Hamon

It’s the 31st of October
The night of Halloween
There are pumpkins flickering and glowing
Giving out a ghostly beam

The kids are out trick or treating
Dressed up as witches and ghosts
They are hoping to get treated
Instead of tricking their host.

It has to be old wives tales
When horror stories were told
Of spirits and ghouls and ghosts
Back in the days of old

But let’s just enjoy the evening
And celebrate en masse
After all it’s an excuse for a party
But the spirits are in a glass!

Jenny Hamon

The Pumpkin Beast - Kathy Figueroa

In the blackest hours of Halloween night
Stir creatures that moan and wail
Such sounds can give a soul a fright
And cause your heart to fail

But there's one that makes the other bunch
Sound as innocent as a birdie's chirp
When it goes CRUNCH, CRUNCH
MUNCH, MUNCH, SLURP, SLURP ..BURP

"Oh, tell us, please, what is this beast?"
Hoarse, hushed whispers query
"On what does this monster feast
And make noises that are so scary?"

Listen carefully to what I say
Make sure my words you mark
Things transpire in a mysterious way
On Halloween, after dark

Behold yon pumpkin, with an eerie face
Lit by a candle from within
It's to keep bad spirits from that place
That's why it has a hideous grin

But people give nary a thought
That, inside, the pumpkin is being toasted
The candle flame burns so hot
The pumpkin becomes roasted

Certain epicureans of the quadruped kind
Esteem this squash 'cuisine'
And, in abundance, it's easy to find
On the night of Halloween

There's one with which I'm acquainted
That has a legendary appetite
And I nearly fainted
When I first saw the following sight

Only scraps of rind lay on the floor
The Pumpkin Beast had struck behind my back
And he was still looking around for more
After his initial snack attack

'El Perro Gordo de Paudash'
Is the name by which he's now known
And he'll choose pumpkin in a flash
Any day, instead of a bone

Kathy Figueroa

Competition Winner - October 2012Autumn Colours' - Yasmin Mariess

Turned Red,
leaves dead.

All green,
now unseen.

Leaves brown,
floating down.

golden hues,
light defuse.

orange leaves,
summers thieves'

at last, my dear,
Autumns here.

Yasmin Mariess

Progress - Lyndon Queripel

They don’t make any more cigarettes
It came as no surprise
The cancer scare was everywhere
And the smoke got in your eyes
They don’t make any more bottles
With deposit on return
There’s recycling bins for glass and tins
And for the junk that doesn’t burn

They don’t make any more three foot rules
Everything is measured by the metre
Did you turn pale to find your pint of ale
Was only .5683 of a litre
They don’t make any more wooden chairs
In a programme to save the trees
Now you just sit on a plastic bit
That hurts behind your knees

They don’t make any more paper now
For the tabloid media show
Everything is seen on the TV screen
Home computer or the video
They don’t make any more money
The new system is cash free
If you don’t accept the sign of debt
You’re exiled from society

They don’t make any more petrol now
Of the red star super grade
It’s green instead without the lead
Another trick of the trade
They don’t make any more 45’s
The single has met its match
It looks final for the black vinyl
If CDs don’t bend or scratch

They don’t make anymore public ‘phones
The mobile has replaced them
After all when you made a call
The vandals had only defaced them
They don’t make anymore vitamin pills
They’re all against the law
It’s understood that G.M. food
Will benefit you much more

They don’t make any more golliwogs
The children had to learn
They were racist you see and not P.C.
And of great concern
But they still make nuclear weapons
Despite a grand display
Disarming beds of old warheads
Before they started to decay

Lyndon Queripel

Broken Arrows - Lyndon Queripel

Broken arrows on the ground
Make me feel like turning ‘round
The hills look dark and cold
Broken dreams, ghosts of the night
Sunset shadows and tricks of light
No wonder the thunder rolled

Well they’ve taken away the trees
Where I can’t even guess
Yes, they’ve taken away the trees
And left me in a wilderness

Broken borders and blinded eyes
It took such a long time to realise
All that glitters is not gold
Broken dance of a highway child
Through fields of fire, running wild
His spirit is uncontrolled

Well they’ve taken away the trees
Where I can’t even guess
Yes, they’ve taken away the trees
And left me in a wilderness

Broken heart at Wounded Knee
Scattered feathers through history
Where truth is bought and sold
Broken promises and pale faced lies
With reservations in thin disguise
What does the future hold ?

Lyndon Queripel