Holiday

Entering October
October stands before me, I admire its orange tenacity. Lanterns flicker around the mouth shaped door While a brisk autumn breeze raises goosebumps on my skin. I admire its orange tenacity. Gazing up, large spooky eyes gleam While a brisk autumn breeze raises goosebumps on my skin, I wonder what's beyond. Gazing up, large spooky eyes gleam Haunted hallways stretch beneath my feet. I wonder what's beyond So I enter the smile that sings to me. Haunted hallways stretch beneath my feet. The scent of cinnamon fills the air. So I enter the smile that sings to me I hear a witch's laughter there. The scent of cinnamon fills the air While the cauldron before me bubbles. I hear a witch's laughter there. I continue the journey ahead. While the cauldron before me bubbles, Golden leaves drift down from above. I continue the journey ahead. I embrace the time that I love. Golden leaves drift down from above. Lanterns flicker around the mouth-shaped door. I embrace the time that I love. October stands before me.
By Annieabout 6 hours ago in Poets
Adventures Of October
I walked down a mosaic path through the trees lined with colorful stars from the sky To a large wooden door with a magical key
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 days ago in Poets
How I Raised the Dead
I was circling because I smelled something fresh-- and then, I saw it lying in the ditch; something had destroyed it, and all that was left were bits of torn carnage, and I picked and pecked and devoured the flesh. Yes, I always swoop in when I smell a death. - Blowflies hummed in the darkness upon my swift descent; pungent were the frenzied maggots, sweet the ripened season's zest. Glimmers from the gloomy crescent glittered silver still duress; bones laid bare in the garden, red the flowers painted carcass. - Harken, hell-bent brethren to how I raised the dead-- having trailed exsanguinated innards o'er vacant heads!
By Sara Wynn2 days ago in Poets
Be My Boo
Alright, the newest writing prompt is: Write a poem that makes October feel like a place you can enter. Sounds fun, so let's do it!
By Rain Dayze2 days ago in Poets
Would you visit?
The air is crisp with the scent of pumpkins and apples. The wind blows through the leaves. The dirt paths are worn, keeping nature at bay.
By Crystal R Whitchurch3 days ago in Poets
Black Cat Blasphemy
The following poem serves as a writing prompt for RMS's challenge, which I will list below. Please enjoy! 🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ Back in the day, we were worshipped as gods among men! Fast forward to the 13th century, and what then? We're Satanic and evil; bad luck to be crossed Treating us like garbage that should be tossed! Why can't people love black cats again? 🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ We're witches familiars? That's news to me! All I wanted was to be wild and free! Now look at my kind, Domesticated out of our mind, While humans take pictures for all to see. 🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ Am I evil? No, I'm a lover. The worst thing I'll do is tear up your cover! Or maybe hunt a mouse, Bring it into the house, Showing off my pride as a hunter, while my mommy finds a last-minute glover! 🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛
By Rain Dayze3 days ago in Poets
Mums
enter October if you wish it's beauty never fails to surprise me the colors are quite the sight Welcome to October the pinks, purple's, yellow, orange's mums and pansies, cornflowers, dahlia's. asters and chrysanthemum and violets they are all stunning Welcome to October
By Susan Payton4 days ago in Poets
Welcome Home. Top Story - September 2026.
So, you wanted a poem that makes October feel like a place you would like to enter? Hold my Pumpkin Spice Latte and watch me work!
By Rain Dayze5 days ago in Poets
Witches Door
The sweet relief of summer's heat dissipates The closer to the heat of hell's night As the month of the witching falls upon us
By Jason Morton6 days ago in Poets
OCTOBER 31. Top Story - September 2026.
OCTOBER 31 Boo! ## “Twas All Hallow’s Eve And wouldn’t you know, As the harvest moon rose, So did a glow! # It was booing and leering
By Margaret Brennan6 days ago in Poets
Where the Porch Lights Stay On
October is a town at the edge of Popham Beach where the porch lights come on early and stay lit long after the tide has fallen asleep.
By Syl De'Vil7 days ago in Poets
Looming October
The air becomes threadbare. Colors thin, almost translucent. Sound frays and breaks the deafening silence. October moves through the unraveling of time, its limbs plucking strands of reality like harp strings. Each pluck summons a ghost woven from memory’s loose ends.
By Syl De'Vil8 days ago in Poets