Highlighted Poem
by Richelle E. Goodrich
DREADING MONSTERS
“Silly little monster” all would say.They’d scratch its head and turn awayuntil it snatched their tiny noses.They couldn’t even smell the roses!Ever after, every childdreaded monsters, fierce or mild.
Copyright 2015 Richelle E. Goodrich
Enjoy these poems written by
Richelle E. Goodrich
MALICE
Mouth of froth and foam At risk under moonlight. Lies drip from your tongue. I hiss a cold retort. Corrupt is the night,Enraging hearts of ice.
MONSTERS
from: Smile Anyway
Monsters excite us in this way or that. They make our pulse thrum and steal lives from the cat! They’re frightening creatures, one peek and you’ll see. Yet life without monsters, how dull it would be. Your tense, nervous laugh tells me you disagree?
UNFITTING LAUGHTER
They say I laugh at unfitting moments.
Like when Harry broke his toe showing off at the rodeo, and when Bill fell face-first into the mud while chasing a horny toad, and when Andrew tried to kiss me on the merry-go-round at the carnival last spring, and when Bobby refused to get on one knee to ask my hand in marriage. Each time I laughed so hard I snorted.
“Unfitting!” someone said. “Inconsiderate and rude!”
When Richey squeaked on his clarinet like a braying mule during the winter Christmas concert, I laughed so loud people turned to squint at me in the dark theatre. I nearly choked laughing when Jeffrey gave me all but one of his hot French fries at lunch. And when Oscar asked me to go to Spring Fling with him, I laughed for two minutes straight—not because I found him funny, not like the clowns at the carnival are funny. They are, but that was not why I laughed.
They say I laugh at unfitting moments, and they are not wrong. I do. At odd and curious times the laughter just bubbles up from my throat and erupts. Like a yawn, it is unplanned and in no way malicious, but I can’t seem to help it. I don’t know why exactly.
Maybe it has to do with how some moments remind me of when I was seven. Back when my dad was alive. He used to twirl and dip my mom in the kitchen—a deep dip that made her hair hang down and brush the floor. Then, after she giggled, Dad would kiss her on the lips for a whole thirty seconds, his big mouth covering her mouth entirely. It made my sisters and me laugh out loud every time. It was a goofy, charming, loving thing my dad did.
Maybe people who do goofy, charming, lovable things just remind me of that, so then I can’t help but laugh out loud because I loved my dad with more love than my heart could hold. Maybe that is why it bubbles out as laughter.
WITCH FEAST
fROM: BEING BOLD
On Hallows Eve, we witches meetto broil and bubble tasty treatslike goblin thumbs with venom dip,crisp bat wings, and fried fingertips.
We bake the loudest cackle crunch,and brew the thickest quagmire punch.Delicious are the rotting flieswhen sprinkled over spider pies.
And, my oh my, the ogre brainsall scrambled up with wolf remains!But what I love the most, it’s true,are festered boils mixed in a stew.
They cook up oh so tenderly.It goes quite well with mugwort tea.So don’t be shy; the cauldron’s hot.Jump in! We witches eat a lot!
We bake the loudest cackle crunch,and brew the thickest quagmire punch.Delicious are the rotting flieswhen sprinkled over spider pies.
And, my oh my, the ogre brainsall scrambled up with wolf remains!But what I love the most, it’s true,are festered boils mixed in a stew.
They cook up oh so tenderly.It goes quite well with mugwort tea.So don’t be shy; the cauldron’s hot.Jump in! We witches eat a lot!
IN COSTUME
FROM: SLAYING DRAGONS
Go put on your mask.Say “trick-or-treat” in costume.It’s All Hallows Eve.
JACK-O-LANTERN
FROM: HOPE EVERMORE
“Tell me the truth,” I said to the jack-o-lantern. “Do you make those spooky faces just to scare little children on Halloween night?” With a glowing wink and a grin that bared his pumpkin fangs, the jack-o-lantern answered me with a lyric poem.
“I must grin full-wide so my glow will be brightand light up the way on this Halloween night.
The faces I make urge each child not to tarry.My big eyes aglow tell them all to be wary!
For goblins, foul witches, and ghosts will give chaseif boys and girls linger too long in one place.
So look sharp and hustle those two little feet!Remember this truth as you shout, ‘Trick or treat!’My pumpkin face lights a safe path through the street.”
“I must grin full-wide so my glow will be brightand light up the way on this Halloween night.
The faces I make urge each child not to tarry.My big eyes aglow tell them all to be wary!
For goblins, foul witches, and ghosts will give chaseif boys and girls linger too long in one place.
So look sharp and hustle those two little feet!Remember this truth as you shout, ‘Trick or treat!’My pumpkin face lights a safe path through the street.”
SCAT, BLACK CAT
from: Being Bold
Black cat,Get off my mat.You bad-luck feline, scat!Don’t come my way, stay where you’re at!Oh, drat.
TEMPTATION'S PATH
fROM: mAKING wISHES
You would never take a rose from a beast. If his callous hand were to hold out a scarlet flower, his grip unaffected by pricking thorns, you would shrink from the gift and refuse it. I know that is what you would do.
But the cunning beast will have his beauty.
He hunts not in hopeless pursuit, for fear would have you sprint all the day long. Thus, he turns toward the shadows and clutches the rosebud, crunching and twisting until every delicate petal is detached. One falls not far from your feet, and you notice the red spot in the snow.
The color sparkles in the sunlight, catching your curious eye. No beast stands in sight; there is nothing to fear, so you dare retrieve the lone petal. The touch of temptation is velvet against your thumb. It carries a scent you bring to your nose, and both eyes close to float on a cloud of perfume.
As your lashes lift, another scarlet drop stains the snow at a near distance. A glance around perceives no danger, and so your footprints scar the snowflakes to retrieve another rosy leaflet as soft and sweet as the first. Your eyes shine with flecks of golden greed at the discovery of more discarded petals, and you blame the wind for scattering them mere footprints apart. All you want is a few, so you step and snatch, step and snatch, step and snatch. Soon, there is enough velvet to rub against your cheek like a silken kerchief. Your collection of one-plus-one-more reeks of floral essence.
Distracted, you jump at the sight of the beast in your path. He stands before his lair, grinning without love. His callous hands grip at thorns on a single naked stem, and you look down at your own hands that now cup his rose. But how can it be?
You would never take a rose from a beast. You would shrink from the gift and refuse it. He knows that is what you would do.
But the cunning beast will have his beauty.
He hunts not in hopeless pursuit, for fear would have you sprint all the day long. Thus, he turns toward the shadows and clutches the rosebud, crunching and twisting until every delicate petal is detached. One falls not far from your feet, and you notice the red spot in the snow.
The color sparkles in the sunlight, catching your curious eye. No beast stands in sight; there is nothing to fear, so you dare retrieve the lone petal. The touch of temptation is velvet against your thumb. It carries a scent you bring to your nose, and both eyes close to float on a cloud of perfume.
As your lashes lift, another scarlet drop stains the snow at a near distance. A glance around perceives no danger, and so your footprints scar the snowflakes to retrieve another rosy leaflet as soft and sweet as the first. Your eyes shine with flecks of golden greed at the discovery of more discarded petals, and you blame the wind for scattering them mere footprints apart. All you want is a few, so you step and snatch, step and snatch, step and snatch. Soon, there is enough velvet to rub against your cheek like a silken kerchief. Your collection of one-plus-one-more reeks of floral essence.
Distracted, you jump at the sight of the beast in your path. He stands before his lair, grinning without love. His callous hands grip at thorns on a single naked stem, and you look down at your own hands that now cup his rose. But how can it be?
You would never take a rose from a beast. You would shrink from the gift and refuse it. He knows that is what you would do.
HALLOWS EVENING BALL
FROM: SLAYING DRAGONS
The coldest day in fallis at the Hallows Evening Ballwhere ghoulish funavoids the sunas monsters mingle wall to wall.
HALLOWEEN
From: Making Wishes
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!
HALLOWEEN NOISES
From: Slaying Dragons
Witches cackle.Goblins growl.Specters 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 bonesWhile graveyards crack the old headstones.All the while the ghouls, they cryTo trick-or-treaters passing by.Oh, the noise on Halloween;It makes me want to scream!
FRANKENSTEIN
from: Being Bold
Frankenstein.Big oaf by design.The monster pines for romance.But sadly, he cannot dance.
LITTLE REMINDERS
From: Grin and Bear it
Little reminders I say to me:Be nice. Think twice.
Don’t judge. Just be. Stay calm. Breathe in.
Breathe out. Play fair. Love all. Praise God.
Give thanks. Please share.Be wise. Speak truth.
Keep peace. Don’t fight.Prize good. Read much.
Learn more. Choose right. Help out. Say yes.
Say no. Be clear. Dream big. Try hard.
Give all. Don’t fear.Make friends. Take time.
Plan dates. Stay close.Have faith. Be true.
Stand tall. Don’t boast. Share smiles. Give hugs.
Play well. Have heart. Invite. Include.
Inspire. Impart.Take walks. Eat well.
Make time for me.These things I aim to do and be.
IN TRUTH
From: HOPE EVERMORE
In truth, there are monsters that gobble you whole.In truth, there are demons that covet your soul.In truth, there’s a devil who wants you to fail.His plan is to lure you in stages to Hell.
In truth, there are angels that aid where they can.In truth, there’s a God who believes in mere man.In truth, there’s a plan of salvation in place.It offers repentance, forgiveness, and grace.
In truth, there are angels that aid where they can.In truth, there’s a God who believes in mere man.In truth, there’s a plan of salvation in place.It offers repentance, forgiveness, and grace.
REGRET IS REGRET
A little sin is a sin.A little hot is still heat.A little stab cuts the skin.A witting wrong is deceit.
A little crime is a crime.A little debt is still debt.A lack of time is no time.A small regret is regret.
A little stain is a stain.A little lie is all lie.A little pain is still pain.A short goodbye is goodbye.
A little crime is a crime.A little debt is still debt.A lack of time is no time.A small regret is regret.
A little stain is a stain.A little lie is all lie.A little pain is still pain.A short goodbye is goodbye.
TRICKSTER OR TREATER
from: Being Bold
Halloween trickster.Spiders on string.Children in costume.Startle and scream.
Halloween treater.Apples on sticks.Caramel. Chocolate.Come, take your pick.
Halloween treater.Apples on sticks.Caramel. Chocolate.Come, take your pick.
FLEETING NATURE OF
GriefHeavy, HarshAching, Agonizing, AfflictingWorry, Work, Rest, ReliefCalming, Comforting, CuringSilent, SoftPeace
'TIS HALLOWS EVE
FROM: MAKING WISHES
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.
ABANDONED
from: Smile Anyway
Abandoned.
The word alone sends shudders down a sensitive spine, troubling the thoughts of pained souls as their hurt swells in ripples. It is a sentence of undesired solitude often pronounced on the innocent, the trusting—administered without warning or satisfactory cause.
One day the moon is yours, or so you believe. The next, his countenance transforms from Jekyll to Hyde with no intention of ever turning back, and you are left trampled upon in a deserted street, concealed by dirty fog that squelches all illumination or any hope for future rays of light.
It is the worst of mysteries why a beast considered noble would forsake his duty, exhibiting a heart of stone. And all who once looked on him, now turn down their eyes and suffer, beguiled.
Some poisons have no antidote, but are slow, silent, torturous ends that curl up the broken body swept into a cold, dark corner. There she is left to drown in her tears—a dying heart.
Abandoned.
The word alone sends shudders down a sensitive spine, troubling the thoughts of pained souls as their hurt swells in ripples. It is a sentence of undesired solitude often pronounced on the innocent, the trusting—administered without warning or satisfactory cause.
One day the moon is yours, or so you believe. The next, his countenance transforms from Jekyll to Hyde with no intention of ever turning back, and you are left trampled upon in a deserted street, concealed by dirty fog that squelches all illumination or any hope for future rays of light.
It is the worst of mysteries why a beast considered noble would forsake his duty, exhibiting a heart of stone. And all who once looked on him, now turn down their eyes and suffer, beguiled.
Some poisons have no antidote, but are slow, silent, torturous ends that curl up the broken body swept into a cold, dark corner. There she is left to drown in her tears—a dying heart.
Abandoned.
I WISH YOU KNEW MY FEAR
from: Grin and bear it
I cannot make you comprehend my fear.I cannot seize you with the same paralysis
that forcibly grips at me.
You do not suffer the thrumming heart that cries for mercy, or the iciness that stings every appendage, or the stabbing throbs that pound… pound… pound… pound… like a chisel digging at the back of my head.
Pain. Pressure. Panic.
My thoughts race, my mind frantic to claw a way out of this, desperate to utilize any means of escape.You look at me and declare it is nothing. There is nothing to warrant fear.But he breathes down my neck the darkest threats and steals my air as his tentacles twist ‘round and ‘round my arms and legs, squeezing… wrenching… tearing me to broken bones and pieces.
You cannot see him.Only I perceive him. I cannot make you comprehend my fear.
ALL FOR SWEETS
From: HOPE EVERMORE
Halloween.Screech and scream!Monsters rally, fierce and mean.
Devils dance.Pixies prance.Trolls will trail you, giv’n the chance. Witches fly.Up so high!Imps and goblins multiply.
Ghosts in sheets.Tricks or treats!Truth be told, it’s all for sweets.
Devils dance.Pixies prance.Trolls will trail you, giv’n the chance. Witches fly.Up so high!Imps and goblins multiply.
Ghosts in sheets.Tricks or treats!Truth be told, it’s all for sweets.
MISTAKES
I thought I could spy malicious.I thought I could see kind intent.I thought I could discern vicious,I thought it would be evident.
I heard him utter forever.I heard him pledge always to stay.I heard him vow worse or better,But hollow words surely betray.
I wish I could mute the voices.I wish I could undo the stakes.I wish I could delete choices.But nothing erases mistakes.
I heard him utter forever.I heard him pledge always to stay.I heard him vow worse or better,But hollow words surely betray.
I wish I could mute the voices.I wish I could undo the stakes.I wish I could delete choices.But nothing erases mistakes.
TREATS AND TRICKS
From: Being Bold
When I was a youngster,I trick-or-treated.I dressed up in costume,rang doorbells and pleaded.
Today I’m a grown upwho treats and tricks.I cackle at childrenand share candy sticks.
Today I’m a grown upwho treats and tricks.I cackle at childrenand share candy sticks.
HALLOWEEN'S UPON US
From: Slaying Dragons
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.
Crows and cats. Vampire bats.Capes and fangs and pointed hats.
Werewolves howl. Phantoms prowl.Halloween’s upon us now.
TELL THE TRUTH
From: Hope Evermore
Be truthful with the things you say and doOr else the imps may get ahold of you.Each lie you tell will make them ever bold.They’ll feed your greed and tempt you sevenfold!Then turn your credibility to ash.At last, your lying tongue is theirs to lash.
MAN IN THE MOON
from: Smile Anyway
Oh, man in the moon, send an evening star to wink at my dreary eyes, and I shall make a wish for a peaceful world that spins with no more lies.
Oh, man in the moon, send the night’s cool breeze to lull my leery heart, and I shall cast my fears to the wind with ease, and watch them all depart.
Oh, man in the moon, send the sandman’s dust to rest my weary soul, and I shall slumber in happy dreams until the morning bells do toll.
Oh, man in the moon, send the night’s cool breeze to lull my leery heart, and I shall cast my fears to the wind with ease, and watch them all depart.
Oh, man in the moon, send the sandman’s dust to rest my weary soul, and I shall slumber in happy dreams until the morning bells do toll.
DESPAIR
Gray, hazy morningsAnd black, moonless nights.Bee stings and nettlesAnd brown recluse bites.
Subzero weatherThat chills the lips blue.Icebergs refusing All ships a way through.
Funeral marches’Midst somber goodbyes.Mean, catty gossipAnd vicious white lies.
Wanting for sunlightOn short, wintry days.Shakespeare and Seneca,Old, tragic plays. Lost in a forest.Abandoned. Alone.Left in the desert.No water. No phone.
Slinking, unwanted,Down dark alleyways.Sins in the shadows.Begrudged yesterdays.
Such are the troublesAnd hardships to bear.Dragging each soul toThe depths of despair.
Subzero weatherThat chills the lips blue.Icebergs refusing All ships a way through.
Funeral marches’Midst somber goodbyes.Mean, catty gossipAnd vicious white lies.
Wanting for sunlightOn short, wintry days.Shakespeare and Seneca,Old, tragic plays. Lost in a forest.Abandoned. Alone.Left in the desert.No water. No phone.
Slinking, unwanted,Down dark alleyways.Sins in the shadows.Begrudged yesterdays.
Such are the troublesAnd hardships to bear.Dragging each soul toThe depths of despair.
WHAT CREATURES EAT
From: Being Bold
What do Halloween creatures eat?Hot spider soup with pumpkin meatand toasted, no-salt, bat-wing chips,served best with Transylvania dips.A thistle-horehound salad mixhas added crunch from sun-dried ticks.The plat du jour is hairy beastfried crisp in grimy goblin grease.Now, don’t forget dessert so sweet;try puss-cream pie or candied feet!
A HEART MADE OF TISSUE PAPER
Mine is a heart made of tissue paper,Thin sheets bonded in delicate layers.Sensitive to disparaging remarks.Blistered and shriveled by ill-fated sparks.
Too trusting to erect protective walls.Too late to avert misfortunes and falls.Shredded by those who swore to do no harm.Chilled by the ones who vowed to keep it warm.
Life is a thunderstorm that drenches hearts.Caustic to one with dissolvable parts.If only I had steered clear of the rain; Beneath cloak and canopy drips less pain.
I am in anguish now and tomorrow.Frail is the heart sopped in grievous sorrow.
Too trusting to erect protective walls.Too late to avert misfortunes and falls.Shredded by those who swore to do no harm.Chilled by the ones who vowed to keep it warm.
Life is a thunderstorm that drenches hearts.Caustic to one with dissolvable parts.If only I had steered clear of the rain; Beneath cloak and canopy drips less pain.
I am in anguish now and tomorrow.Frail is the heart sopped in grievous sorrow.
NEVER-ENDING HEARTACHE
From: Making Wishes
My pain builds like storm clouds―massive, dark, and heavy with teardrops. Moisture falls torrential as if my world is a violent, eternal downpour; however, at long last the source runs dry and the bitter storm does cease. Blue skies dare to glow where the gloom has dissipated. I breathe it in, hoping to cleanse my inner soul. A laden heart tells me the truth: the clear sky is an illusion. Old pain rushes back like a flood, providing means for clouds to form and expand once again until it is too much to bear and the heaviness turns to rain. I cannot find refuge from this woe. It is my never-ending heartache.