Darkness rolls in early
a chill hangs in the air
there’s howling in the distance,
is it a wolf that tarries there?
Up inside the tower
the doctor’s working hard
a creature waits to come from life
built from parts discarded
And in the swamp, the water churns,
what lies beneath the reeds?
It crawls to the embankment
in darkness now he creeps.
‘Neath the headstones comes a scraping,
in the dirt a hand is seen
as undead hear the calling
and rally to convene.
Overhead there comes a cackle
of witches on the fly;
the bats are in the belfry,
and vampires are nigh.
The spirits have all arisen
the creatures of the night,
wandering among us
hidden in plain sight.
From sky and swamp and graveyard
the horrors come call,
but the orange man with tiny hands
is the scariest of all!
No one knows from whence he came
with beady eyes and scowl
to strike discourse with no remorse
and makes their dead skin crawl.
Yes, even gruesome monsters
who slither from the earth
watch their step around him
while keeping a wide berth.
They say that only humans
—us ordinary folk—
can rid the earth of such a beast
with a simple ‘vote’.’
It’s up to every one us
so put away your fear
spread the word, November 3rd
to upend 4 more years!
© G. Brannan 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.