Halloween Poem Quotes

“Haunt an old house.
Ask for a treat.
Laugh like a witch.
Lick something sweet.
Offer a trick.
Wander a maze.
Echo a boo.
Exclaim the phrase—
Normal's unnatural on Halloween!”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year

“The Harvest Moon glows round and bold,
In pumpkin shades outlined in gold,
Illuminating eerie forms,
Unnatural as a candied corn.
Beware what dare crawls up your sleeve,
For 'tis the night called Hallows Eve.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year

“Treats and tricks.
Witch broomsticks.
Jack-o-lanterns
Lick their lips.

Crows and cats.
Vampire bats.
Capes and fangs
And pointed hats.

Werewolves howl.
Phantoms prowl.
Halloween’s
Upon us now.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a Few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

“A pumpkin lives but once a year
when someone sets its soul afire
and on that night it stirs up fear
until its flame is snuffed.
But e'en one night of eerie light is fright enough.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a Few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

“The coldest day in fall
is at the Hallows Evening ball
where ghoulish fun
avoids the sun
as monsters mingle wall to wall.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a Few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

“Witches cackle.
Goblins growl.
Spectres boo,
And werewolves howl.
Black cats hiss.
Bats flap their wings.
Mummies moan.
The cold wind sings.
Ogre’s roar.
And crows, they caw.
Vampires bahahahaha.
Warlocks swish their moonlit capes.
Loch Ness monsters churn the lake.
Skeletons, they rattle bones
While graveyards crack the old headstones.
All the while the ghouls, they cry
To trick-or-treaters passing by.
Oh, the noise on Halloween;
It makes me want to scream!”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a Few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

“It was Halloween eve,
And I was yearning alone waiting for my soul mate Ethan,
He was expected by now for the celebrations in our bedroom,
We planned for this, many months back, and now I was getting restless,
My dick was erect and making a pole in my boxer - tough to handle 9 inches long of yearning all alone.”
― Delicious David, Dark Desires: II Gay Erotic Poems

“A Halloween flower,
if ever there was one,
would smell like an onion,
have thorns like a rose.
With charcoal black petals
and vines that entangle,
t'would grow under moonlight
in mud, I suppose.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a Few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

“Go put on your mask.
Say 'trick-or-treat' in costume.
It’s All Hallows Eve.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a Few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

“Leaves crumble under my feet as I walk, the scent of fallen apples and damp soil in air, the shadowlands felt in the mist hanging over the fields, ancient whispers awaken the night.”
― Solstice

“Call it Halloween, Diwali or Dia de Los Muertos, it's the universal struggle for light, of us humans - insan - humanos.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Humanitarian Dictator

“The Phantastic Phantasms by Stewart Stafford

Halloween Henry sitting on top of a pumpkin he made

Eyes are ablaze

Morbid Melissa breastfeeding strychnine to all of the babes

Her smile never fades

Don’t you see that darkness creeping?

It’s a nightmare without sleeping

Trick-or-Treat Trevor knocking on doors with no head to display

It’s his headless way

Emmet The Clownface

Haunting the grounds of an old children’s school

He’s nobody’s ghoul

On a carpet of Autumn leaves

They’re around every All Hallow’s Eve

Sam O’Terry counting the bones of his earthly remains

None of them lame

Simon-Whose-Head-Hurts taking his 920th overdose

Chemically verbose

They will always do their worst

On October the 31st

©Stewart Stafford, 2018. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“The Revenant by Stewart Stafford

The golden ball in the sky adopts an adios hue,
And kisses the world a fond adieu,
The predators that thrive in its absence appear,
Their shadows and eyeshine our darkest fears.

The Revenant stirs from subterranean limbo,
With bloodied fangs and glowing eyes akimbo,
To survive and stagger the bloodlust way,
Until fasting begins at break of day.

Hear the tap at your window,
The solitary song,
Embrace the contagion,
No matter how wrong.

Feel the frigid skin,
The piercing bite,
And live in their troth,
At one with night.

Then recline in their grave,
In eternal embrace,
And rise at sundown,
A gothic Queen of Disgrace.

© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Pomona's Feast by Stewart Stafford

Home from aggressive begging on November Eve,
A horror movie that won't be finished in the background,
The pirate's booty or robber's swag is examined.

Face in the bag, a cornucopia of scents in the nostrils:
Oranges, nuts, burnt popcorn, chocolate,
Toffee apples, crisps, Liquorice Allsorts, and Rice Krispie cakes.

A smörgåsbord Pomona's feast begins,
As a maternal voice advises frugality,
To no avail.

Noses in the trough,
Nothing eaten bears any relation to the thing eaten before or after,
Aching gums, jaws, and bellies swiftly ensue.

To bed to sleep it off,
The next morning, it's déjà vu,
The maternal voice again advises eating breakfast first, to no avail.

© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“November 1st, All Saints Day,
Dawned crisp and bright,
Golden leaves and burned-out husks of fireworks,
Lay strewn in the grass by the smouldering bonfire.”
― Stewart Stafford

“The Reaper's Harvest by Stewart Stafford

Vast underworld gates open on Samhain night,
The grail Sun winters there, in paling sight.
Unquiet spirits swarm forth in feral misprision,
Trick-or-treat landlords knock in spectral vision.

Autumn, perennially-early to Death's season,
Winter's welcome overstayed in icy reason.
Spring's distant wave thrills in emerging seed,
Summer's blush in full alignment decreed.

Snowflake to blossom, and greenery to withering;
As effigy reminders of cyclical dithering,
Seasonal standing stones sink to shifting sands,
Saplings of the forest’s new strength, in nature’s hands.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford