pumpkin poet
under a yellow moon
night of my existence
well......shall I
create a creation
of words and lines
and verses?

listen I to sounds
of the night
glowing from within
my fiery eyes
watch giggling children
collecting treats
my smile widens
as the glee of
this holiday
flows through
myself, a gourd
an orange being

arising from the earth
my form is roundish
my stem protrudes upwards
so off I fly
following the masses of
little ghosts, witches,
and Sponge Bob Square Pants

my poetic observations
are for me only
inside they speak
as I record another
Halloween of delights
laughing at my black
cat's fluffy fur

the pumpkin poet
beats a beat of
words and verses
until the next
all Hallow's eve