Halloween is a magical time of the year. Here are some poems that I’ve written over the years, inspired by my song “He Who Walks Behind The Rows“.
Poliphilos took a spade
and gave the soil a dig.
And when he saw what he had done,
his vines began to jig.
Now THOSE were some fine vines, I tell you!
Poliphilos grew a plant,
as big as he could bear.
But when he tried to lift it up,
it floated in the air.
I think that plant’s still floating.
Out there.
Somewhere.
Poliphilos had an apple,
red and shiny as can be.
“Take a bite,” he told the children,
“and you’ll know as much as me.
I keep telling them this, but no child has ever believed me so far.
Kids these days...
Poliphilos stitched a scarecrow
from a coat he’d worn before.
Now it waves to him each morning —
and it isn’t straw no more.
Scarecrows. No matter how much attention you give them, they want more.
Eeny meeny, corn so high,
catch a scarecrow by the eye.
If he hollers, bring him more —
keep him happy, lock the door.
I keep my door locked, because I don’t like how the neighbor’s scarecrow is staring at me.
Where’s the man who fixed the gutter?
Where have all the postmen gone?
Never you mind that, my darling —
see how tall the corn has grown!
Nothing to see here. It’s just the fertilizers I ordered.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I hear the rows outside them creep.
If I should stir before the morn,
I’ll blame the wind — and not the corn.
Or, you can blame the morning star, but just remember: the star knows where you live.
There’s a lady in the garden,
thin and gray and rather tall.
Children, do not pick her apples
She will count them all.
And shall I tell you what will happen if even one of those apples is missing?
A cloud by day,
a fire by night,
a lantern on the hill.
Follow it
and you’ll be home by dawn,
if dawn comes.
If it will.
There was this one time when it didn’t.
That wasn’t nice. (read about it here)
Knock, knock, knock upon the door!
“Trick or treat, and give us more!
Empty hands have hungry feet:
better give us something sweet!
Yeah. Or else…
The shelves were bare in winter,
then suddenly they were not.
Don’t ask us how,
don’t ask us who!
The crows said we shouldn’t.
But, you know, what do crows know, anyway?
When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. And when you subscribe to my newsletter, all your dreams come true. Join Those Who Know.
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