funny halloween poem

thriller - michael jackson

Halloween Date From Hell



I'm sick of chopping creatures up

I'm tired of making broth

filled with bleedin’ legs of frog

and flaky wings of moth


So I bought ‘The Undead Times’ last week

and clawed the classifieds

to find a date for Halloween -

an ugly one who’s died!


Being the busiest time of year

the list was not the most -

A mischief-seeking goblin,

A bored, retired ghost


Confused and lonely werewolf types

who couldn’t do full moons

A vampire who’d prefer to not

do sunny afternoons


A pumpkin-monster desperate

for air-heads with a grin

A skeleton who'd like to meet

a slim thing thin on skin


I was just about to give up when...

right there on the next page

was a gorgeous, grotesque zombie

thirteen times my age


My wrinkly heart began to beat

His search was for a hag

with warts and boils and super-nose

who liked to dress in rags


It couldn’t be more perfect

We met All Hallows Eve

But when he kissed my veiny hand

his arm fell from his sleeve


As I bent down to pick it up

he tried a quick embrace

and accidentally bashed my boil

which burst upon his face


Silence first but then we laughed

It echoed in the doom

He dragged me to the picnic

he’d laid out on his tomb


We crunched on bats and vultures’ beaks

He boasted he's a killer

and that he was an extra once

in Michael Jackson’s Thriller


He lunged at me with his fat lips

Then licked my warty chin

He stroked my wiry, bracken hair

and nibbled my old skin


A love like this I’d never known

He lurched me to my door

He soaked me with a goodnight kiss

His tongue fell on the floor


The local kids fled from the streets

and gangs of adults too

I beckoned in my juicy hunk

to taste my special brew


He grunted to the kitchen stove

The cauldron bubbled hot

I stroked his chest, then shoved him hard

with all the strength I’d got


Well I’m sick of chopping creatures up

I’m tired of making broth

But zombies are much easier

As bits of them fall off


No fiddly scraps of moth or frog

No complicated spell

Just a gristly, grisly Halloween stew

A match sure made in hell!


©2009 Mark Bird

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