Here's the first poem I submitted to Fabiola's Sunday WordPress 'Inspiration Galore Project Party', which you can check out by clicking the button to the left:
ANNIE WITHINSHAW'S HALLOWE'EN SURPRISE
The
churchyard path doth wend its way,
By
mossy stones where bodies lay
Beneath
the soil in eternal rest,
Their
weary bones as dry as dust.
John
De’Ath, a farmer’s son,
Had
died in eighteen and seventy one.
By
moonlight’s shadow on Hallowe’en,
He
rises up to survey the scene.
A
ghostly shroud in which he’d been bound,
Falls
into pieces on the ground.
John
is left in his birthday suit
To
startle the choir,
He
thinks it’s a hoot.
Floating
in through the old church door,
He
spies Miss Annie Withinshaw.
Annie
had never seen such a sight
Of
a naked man on choir practise night.
She
grabs some specs from Mabel Fanlee,
To
feast her eyes on John’s dingly dangly.
But
John had been dead for many a day,
His
manhood had simply rotted away.
His
flesh was green, his eyes were gone,
There
wasn’t much left of poor old John.
Annie
stopped in mid carouse,
And
fainted in the choir pews.
John
felt guilty, turned and fled
To
a draughty tomb and a cold, hard bed.
