Halloween Poetry: Bats

Celebrate Halloween properly with this amazing poem, courtesy of poets.org.

Bats

unveil themselves in dark.

They hang, each a jagged,

silken sleeve, from moonlit rafters bright

as polished knives. They swim

the muddled air and keen

like supersonic babies, the sound

we imagine empty wombs might make

in women who can’t fill them up.

A clasp, a scratch, a sigh.

They drink fruit dry.

And wheel, against feverish light flung hard

upon their faces,

in circles that nauseate.

Imagine one at breast or neck,

Patterning a name in driblets of iodine

that spatter your skin stars.

They flutter, shake like mystics.

They materialize. Revelatory

as a stranger’s underthings found tossed

upon the marital bed, you tremble

even at the thought. Asleep,

you tear your fingers

and search the sheets all night.

by Paisley Rekdal, from The Invention of the Kaleidoscope, 2007

All Hallows Poem: Mr. Macklin's Jack O'Lantern

All Hallow's Read, An Excellent Tradition — Now with Poetry

So, Neil Gaiman encourages you to — well, let me let him tell you himself.

Long story short, give friends, family — even total strangers — scary books to read.

I think that's a lovely idea.

Personally, I include a Halloween poem with candy for my trick-or-treaters, and take the poem to work for wide distribution.

Stop by Hedgehog Lover on Halloween to see what poem I chose this year.

Can't wait? Check out the poem from last year. Or the year before. Try Halloween 2012. Seriously, I'm a fan, and I know you will be, too.

See you October 31!

All Hallows Poem: Witch Ghost

Witch Ghost

Tonight I come out from under my cold,
mossy gravestone to haunt you.

I am a real Halloween ghost
disguised as a pointed-hatted,
black-catted witch
with snarling mark,
painted dead black,
blood red and rotten green,
so when your doorbell rings
on this creepy night of Halloween,
I dare you, ope the door,
look me in the eye and let me in.

-John Lyons
courtesy Poetry Archive

All Hallow's Poem: Requiescat

On All Hallow's Read, I gave this poem to every trick-or-treater who came to my door, as well as every one who walked within bounding distance of me.

Requiescat




        Tread lightly, she is near
        Under the snow,
        Speak gently, she can hear
        The daisies grow.
        
        All her bright golden hair
        Tarnished with rust,
        She that was young and fair
        Fallen to dust.
        
        Lily-like, white as snow,
        She hardly knew
        She was a woman, so
        Sweetly she grew.
        
        Coffin-board, heavy stone,
        Lie on her breast,
        I vex my heart alone,
        She is at rest.
        
        Peace, peace, she cannot hear
        Lyre or sonnet,
        All my life’s buried here,
        Heap earth upon it.

        — Oscar Wilde      

All Hallow's Read: All Souls

Happy Halloween!  

Enjoy this poem as part of All Hallow's Read 2013.

For maximum effect, read it aloud.



 
All Souls


            I

A thin moon faints in the sky o’erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it’s turn of the year and All Souls’ night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.

            II

Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope —
For the year’s on the turn, and it’s All Souls’ night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.

            III

And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it’s turn of the year and All Souls’ night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.

            IV

And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: “Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!”
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year’s on the turn, and it’s All Souls’ night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.

            V

Till they say, as they hear us — poor dead, poor dead! —
“Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed —
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart —
For it’s turn of the year and All Souls’ night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.”

            VI

And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
“One more, one more, ere we go their way”?
For the year’s on the turn, and it’s All Souls’ night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.

            VII

And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it’s All Souls’ night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away

by Edith Wharton, 1903

All Hallow's Read — and What to Share

There are many reasons to like  author Neil Gaiman. All Hallow's Read is one of them.

All Hallow's Read is an excellent way to share the love of books and reading. If you love books and stories, then you love sharing those very things. (I know I do.) Neil Gaiman encourages that. In fact, he says — but wait, let me let him tell you himself.

Me, I share poetry. Every Halloween, trick-or-treaters receive not only good chocolate candy (the kind I'd eat, and usually do, until I have to give it away), but also a poem. I've shared the works of Edgar Allan Poe, Edna St. Vincent Millay. This year, I've chosen — wait. I can't tell you until Halloween.

What poems would you share for Halloween? (Note the plural. You don't have to stop at one.)

If you're looking for novels, I'd recommend one by the man himself, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, or the delightfully weird story John Dies at the End.

What are you reading for Halloween? Is it scary, gory or creepy? Spooky or just unusual? Let me know!

Get Ready: All Hallow's Read is Around the Corner!

Neil Gaiman had a great idea: give a scary book for Halloween. Here, let me let him tell you himself:

I fully support All Hallow's Read, but I'm a little different: I give poems with the candy.  This year, Halloween falls on Poetry Wednesday, so you can get your poetry fix right here.

Feel free to print out the poem I post October 31 and give it to the trick-or-treaters who come to your door. (If you need the title early so you can better prepare, let me know.)

Other poems I've shared in years past include "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe and "The Little Ghost" by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

So, what are you reading this All Hallow's Read?

If you're looking for a novel, I suggest John Dies at the End by David Wong. I just finished it and if I could explain it, I would get a medal. It was wild, freaky and very, very good.

I also will be reading Shadow of Night (and re-reading A Discovery of Witches, which is totally worthy of a re-read). Or maybe working on the Fever series by Karen Marie Moning (thanks for the recommendation, Karen!).

What would you recommend? Do you have different recommendations for different people? Let us know!

All Hallow's Read: The Votes are In!

I declare All Hallow's Read a success.

Every single person who received a poem loved the idea and planned to read it tonight.  (I recommended reading it with the light on, then realized they'd have to kind of do that anyway.)

It was our first Halloween in our new house, and we had a few dozen trick-or-treaters.  They didn't start out as early as I thought, but I forgot that we are at the back of the neighborhood.  It takes folks longer to get to us.

I was crazy-generous with the candy, but that's what happens when there are nine bags of candy to give away.  (Can anyone say, "Eating ourselves into proper winter padding?")

And everyone, even those who may be too young to read by themselves, got a poem.  (Hey, Mom and Dad can read, and decide if it is something to be read to them now or later.)

So, we'll do it again next year.  Thanks again for the suggestion, Neil Gaiman!

Hallowe'en, All Hallow's Read 2011

Happy Halloween!  Happy All Hallow's Read!  Here is the poem I will share with my neighborhood trick-or-treaters — by one of my favorite poets.  Enjoy!

The Little Ghost

I KNEW her for a little ghost
That in my garden walked;
The wall is high -- higher than most --
And the green gate was locked.

And yet I did not think of that
Till after she was gone --
I knew her by the broad white hat,
All ruffled, she had on.

By the dear ruffles round her feet,
By her small hands that hung
In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,
Her gown's white folds among.

I watched to see if she would stay,
What she would do -- and oh!
She looked as if she liked the way
I let my garden grow!

She bent above my favourite mint
With conscious garden grace,
She smiled and smiled -- there was no hint
Of sadness in her face.

She held her gown on either side
To let her slippers show,
And up the walk she went with pride,
The way great ladies go.

And where the wall is built in new
And is of ivy bare
She paused -- then opened and passed through
A gate that once was there.

by Edna St Vincent Millay

Courtesy of Things That Go Boo!

All Hallow's Read: Are You In?

I really like Neil Gaiman.  Not only is he a great author (American Gods, Neverwhere, Stardust, to mention a few),  he comes up with other good ideas, too — like All Hallow's Read.

Instead of giving out candy on Halloween, Gaiman suggested giving out scary books, and encouraging people to read.

How quickly can I say, "I'm in!"?

Now, to be fair, it's not going to be easy.  There are plenty of people who don't like Halloween, or who associate the wrong spirit with it.  Plus — perish the thought — some people don't like scary books or stories.  (I know, crazy, but they're out there.)

So, how will I encourage it in my new neighborhood?

First of all, I won't go cold turkey on the candy.  I'd hate to be known as "that house that doesn't give out candy."  I certainly don't want to get mixed up with the house that gives out toothbrushes, or political pamphlets.  (Darn the American election system for putting elections so close to Halloween — though, to be honest, it really is a similar activity: getting dressed up and pretending to be someone else...)

Maybe I'll just start with a poem, a single sheet of paper.  Maybe a limerick, or a sonnet?  There are plenty of good ones out there, or I could write my own.  Start a series of poems, collect the entire set... I could have some fun with this!

Halloween will bring out David's inner spook-tacular decorating, so the porch will be scary.  I'll hand out a poem with candy, which also can be scary.  Then we'll see if anyone else joins us next year.  (And if you don't like my ideas, check out Darla Moore's ideas in the Columbus Public Schools Examiner, to see if one of them tickles your fancy.)

So, who else is in?