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DreambeastPoems: New Illustrations by Chris White

Sometimes the world wide web can be such a playground of positivity, shining so bright, that the negativity that snaps from our screens fades into unimportance, if only briefly.

I discovered this brilliant illustrator, Chris White, because for no other reason than #Kindness, he illustrated my poem that features in Brian Moses' - The Best Ever Book of Funny Poems and tweeted it. Random acts of kindness burn brightly in 2021.

So, for a nominal fee, Chris has created some magnificent #illustrations that convey just what I want my website and blog to be: a force for good; fun and thought in equal measure!

Which is your favourite?

DreambeastPoems 1 by Chris White

DreambeastPoems 2 by Chris White

DreambeastPoems 3 by Chris White

DreambeastPoems 4 by Chris White

Here is the original illustration that he did for my poem, "Halloween Date From Hell," and the poem that inspired it. Bless you Mr White ...

Halloween Date From Hell - Chris White Illustration

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 girl 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

Click the image to find out more about the compilation that the poem is featured in ...

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