Witches brew,

a cold, dark misty night,

screams haunts the neighborhoods,

black cats rule the fears of man,

and potions drunk changes a life.

Evil controls what you think you believe,

but that belief is taken to a darker side,

and the soul becomes blackened,

Forgotten.

__________

Turkey’s lives given up

to appease the masses

as families join together,

Celebrating a joyous moment,

never giving thought

a turkey did have a soul;

destroyed,

to feed the masses,

which, upon the next day,

forgetting the reason for celebration.

__________

The night sky, bespeckled,

children awaiting a jovial man in red,

parents exhausted, happy this moment,

this last second of hope for joy,

will end.

No more jostling in the crowds,

deciding last minute gifts,

the overall preparation of decorations,

a tree glistening when lights turned low,

awaiting for that sound—that invisible movement,

as a man in red is never seen, yet,

items are left behind,

only to be discarded months later.

Witches cackle their own “ho-ho-ho” as their brew has taken hold of humanity.

i heard the marching come early, this year.

thousands of little feet tamping the earth

just above where i sleep.

they dance the same - their

joyous games played in the light of day.

where the call of 'trick or treat' is

so very loud i

can hear it from the dirt and weeds

because my home is the earth.

it is my house, and the bed where i sing

lullabies to the worms

coaxing them down onto my plate -

along with the turnips and potatoes and

everything that steeps in the dirt like a good tea.

Thanksgiving also came early this year.

i've gone and made my own feast.

but it's when the winter sinks

it's gnashing teeth into the ground

that i find my chains to be brittle.

binds of root and twig bloody my wrists

every day of the year -

but an early frost...what an omen indeed.

so early that Christmas might just see

more than just presents and fir trees.

oh, this year...it might just see me.

pumpkins cut up

for decoration

guts spilling

costumes and creepiness

reminds me

of my family dynamics

turkeys carved

for presentation

cooked to perfection

makes me think

of happiness

now served cold

in the present

Christmas trees

cut for their prettiness

making for excellent

holiday cheeriness

is a bittersweet testament

to what I can’t get back

if you’ve read this far, may your holidays be more than your past.

Long night

Spooky fright

Pranks and sweets

Tricks and treats

Children enticed

Neighborhood heist

Houses, haunted

Goodies, flaunted

Gather 'round

By love bound

Families both far and near

Members from there and here

Enjoy the bountiful feast

Celebrate crossing from the east

Food for which we are grateful

Family for which we are thankful

Snow days

School delays

Snowball fight

December delight

Presents under the tree

Children filled with glee

Tinsel and holly

Kind and jolly

Three different nights - when all choose to unite

When I was younger, I’d get too excited over the small things like holidays

I was just a child being childlike, oblivious to everything

I had dreams I didn’t know I couldn’t achieve

I got candy and presents and food and I was happy with just that

Then I grew up, and realized my ignorance

I stopped wearing costumes, stopped eating so much, stopped waking my parents on Christmas Eve

Because showing that happiness was a sign of weakness and immaturity

The cool kids didn’t show their excitement, so neither should I

I still feel excited when the holidays come, although I don’t show it

I want to eat all the thanksgiving food, eat all the Halloween candy, open all the Christmas presents

But I don’t show it because I can’t

I’m not able to because showing emotions is showing weakness

I just want to be a kid again

Black cats creep upon walls of ivy and alleys dark,

Burning fire creates a wild spark,

Witches cackle and fly across the silver speck of haunt,

Ghosts scream a coupled chaunt.

All family gathered round,

A turkey and a garden rose from the ground,

Time of giving,

Time of living.

Ornaments hung on a tree,

The cold hits a new degree,

Jingle bells plays a ballade,

Presents escalade.

They all bring out the best and the worst in us, but magic resides in them all.

hallows eve

children sleep

in anticipation

for living the dream

dancing and taking

candy from strangers

no fear of white vans

or demons and ghosts.

we're one of them now,

one of the monsters

and we flaunt our identity

proud of the lie

we wear on our faces

never knowing fear

never knowing pain

never knowing what it's like

to truly be

an outcast.

thanksgiving day

a turkey shot

in anticipation

for a great feast

struggling against

the inevitable

gobbling up grains

only to be gobbled up itself,

existing to be eaten

to celebrate a day

that has lost its significance

after we made alliances

and then broke them.

honest friends with good intentions

and we lumped them together

into a single thing:

an outcast.

christmas day

tearing at wrappers

wondering why

our hoard has gotten smaller

why mommy and daddy look so tired

and why the lights

are burning out.

why does a holiday of joy and giving

leave some of us

feeling so empty?

maybe we gave too much

and recieved nothing.

next year,

i won't give as much.

i'll feel a little more full.

but i'll also feel like

an outcast.

i'll always be an outcast.

On a brisk fall night

When the air holds just a bite

Children dart here and there

Asking for candy or a scare

When the leaves have fallen down

And everyone’s back in their hometown

A turkey sits on the table

While we all listen to a fable

When colder fronts move everyone inside

Children stay up, bleary-eyed

Waiting for presents to appear

While ‘Santa’ waits for the ‘all-clear’

And through another year, it holds clear: we love to gather near.

Three small pumpkins paraded in matching costumes.

Although they look the same, their insides are different.

Guts filled with different sprouting seeds.

Masks lift, the only reminder, that it is Halloween.

Three medium turkeys not ready to be stuffed.

Always packed tightly with the same filling, obligation.

Once adorned with different colored feathers, now plucked off into dust.

But now they are nothing more than Thanksgiving rust.

Three large gifts wrapped with different themes.

Once an external excitement, now all there is to see, is old withered paper.

The bows are the same, large and precisely tied.

Pulled off one by one, with large hands, vanishing the once joyous Christmas pride.

Three little humans now full grown, feeling the need for change, of holiday traditions past known.

Sugar high

Sugar nigh

Scrambling costumes

Night long rambles

Toilet paper trees

Egg shelled windows

Ghosts of pranks

Trick or treat

Turkey naps

Football spats

Grateful prayers

Planes and trains

Travel stresses

Schedule messes

Thank the Gods

Survival is king

Twinkling trees

colorful lights

wrapping paper

on cozy nights

Stocking surprises

loving enterprises

Santa rules

Children’s laughter

Preception guided through the lens of love