Halloween Poetry Contest: Hosted by Writer’s Treasure Chest

Aurora Jean Alexander of Writer’s Treasure Chest is hosting her 5th Annual Halloween Poetry Contest.

According to her:

Every author and poet are invited to participate and deliver a “Halloween-Poem” to my email address: aurorajean.alexander@aol.com, together with their picture and a link to their website and/or blog.

There are a few rules to follow:

  • Your poem needs a Halloween theme.
  • Your poem needs a minimum of 99 words.
  • Your poem has to be delivered to my email address between October 10 and Halloween, October 31, 2019, at 9 pm Pacific Time.
  • Your poem has to be delivered together with your picture and a link to your blog/page.
  • Please avoid violence, bad language, and sexual content within the poems. It would be disqualified.

Every poem that meets the rules and is delivered within the deadline will be published here on “Writer’s Treasure Chest” together with the provided picture and link.

The contest starts October 10, 2019 06.00 am and ends October 31, 2019 09.00 pm Pacific Time!!

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Brew something special and submit it within the 3 weeks she’s allowed!

Contest for Children’s Stories: Susanna Leonard Hill’s 9th Annual Halloweensie Writing Competition

Do you feel like writing a Halloween story for children? Do you feel like winning a fabulous prize for doing so?

Sounds like you need to check out Susanna Leonard Hill’s 9th Annual Halloweensie Writing Contest!

Visit her site for full details. The basics, according to her, are:

The Contest: write a 100 word Halloween story appropriate for children (children here defined as 12 and under) (title not included in the 100 words), using the words potion, cobweb, and trick.  Your story can be scary, funny, sweet, or anything in between, poetry or prose, but it will only count for the contest if it includes those 3 words and is 100 words (you can go under, but not over!)  Get it?  Halloweensie – because it’s not very long and it’s for little people 🙂  (And yes, I know 100 words is short, but that’s part of the fun and the challenge!  We got over 235 fantastic entries last year, so I know you can do it!)  Also, you may use the words in any form – e.g. potions, cobwebbed, trickery, whathaveyou 🙂  NO ILLUSTRATION NOTES PLEASE! (And yes, you may submit more than one entry if you’re so inclined 🙂 )

Post: your story on your blog between 12:00 AM EDT Monday October 28th and Thursday October 31st by 11:59 PM EDT and add your post-specific link to the list that will accompany my special October 28th post.  There will be no Tuesday Debut, Perfect Picture Book or Would You Read It posts for the duration of the contest so the links will stay up for everyone to visit and enjoy.  If you don’t have a blog and would like to enter, you can simply copy and paste your entry in the comments section of my October 28th post once it’s up (please include your byline if your posting handle is something like MamaWritesByNightlight so I can identify you.)  If you have difficulty posting in the comments, which unfortunately sometimes happens, you may email your entry to me at susanna[at]susannahill[dot]com and I’ll post it for you.  Please place your entry in the body of the email including your title and byline at the top – NO ATTACHMENTS!  And please do not submit entries before the start of the contest!

The Judging: in a grueling marathon over the following days, my devoted assistants and I will narrow down the entrants to 3 top choices (hee hee hee – you know how much trouble I have with only 3, so we’ll see) which will be posted here and voted on for a winner on Monday November 5th (if the judging takes longer than we expect if could be later…but we will do our best!)  The winner will be announced on Tuesday November 5th (good lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise 🙂 ) If we get more than 25 entries, I will post 6 finalists and give prizes for 1st – 3rd.  If by some chance we get the kind of turnout we’ve had the past couple years, I may post as many as 10-12 finalists and I’ll probably end up giving everyone a prize 🙂  But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it!

Judging criteria will be as follows:

  • 1. Kid-appeal! – These stories are intended for a young audience (ages 12 and under), so we’re looking for stories that children will enjoy and relate to.
  • 2.  Halloweeniness – the rules state a Halloween story, so it must be crystal clear that the story is about Halloween, not just some random spooky night.
  • 3. Quality of story – entries must tell a story, including a main character of some kind and a true story arc even if it’s tiny 🙂  Entries must not be merely descriptions or mood pieces.
  • 4. Quality of Writing: check your spelling, grammar, punctuation etc.  If you’re going to rhyme, give us your best 🙂  Overall writing quality and use of language are also important.
  • 5. Originality and creativity – because that is often what sets one story above another.

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Definitely go to her site to read over the prizes. They are always amazing!

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Boil, boil, toil and terrible! This week’s poems were enough to take the eyes off a newt or the wool from a bat. Yet only one poet raised a horrible enough incantation to incite the Wal-mart imps, and that was:

Crackles & Cackles

by Peregrine Arc

Tooth, fang, eye of toad.
Hurry, hurry, PETA’s on the phone!
Come, come, more evil things we need
To finish this spell, to hasten its speed.
What do we choose? Bloody armor, a bloody mary, or even unwashed unmentionables?
A rope, fresh from a hanging, the ectoplasm of a ghost or a wing of a bat?
Oh Heavens and Hades, we need something more evil than that!

Nay, bring me that tome from the vault, yes, the one right over there, in-between the mummy’s teeth and the vampire’s sash. But not to be confused with the earrings of Sinbad.

TERRIBLE POETRY 101, the spine reads in blood.
I cackle, I chortle; oh this is such fun!
Yes, that’ll do the trick. This spell is now done.

Congratulations, P’Arc! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

The head witch required multiple readings through all entries this week. After brewing a potion to revive her sensibilities, she selected P’Arc’s contribution as first by merit of its terrible meter overall. Where is the subject going? Does it have one? What in the name of spell-dom will this brew?

Well done, young apprentice.

Now; if ye need yet another chant after hers, here are the rest:

A Nasty Spell

by Trent McDonald

Boil, boil
A bit of basil
Add more olive oil
Some witch hazel
Tooth of hen
Toe of frog
Mud from the fen
And earwax from a dog
Some eye of Newt

No, not Gingrich!
Disgusting, you wit
Such a nasty witch!

We say the spell

And, ehhh,
That eye, Hell!
It’s watching you!

Remind me to never
Create a hex
With you ever
You don’t follow the text

—–

Untitled piece

by Bruce Goodman

O fortl tew hir jatl ebuvi the hurozum,
dicurelomg and chiiromg the isivelid
sphiri thi hed jatl bigam lu nuvi om;
gsolliromg soki the nurmomg tler – fass
uf sofi and tpsimduar and juy.
Bal, uh, whel e rivusaloum!

—–

Spell of Invisibility

by Joem18b

to become unseen first remove your clotheen
this spell does not work on your tutu or muumuu

if you’re a kid don’t you dare become bare
spells come from hell so you have messed up
get back dressed up

now that you grownups are naked it’s time to get bak-ed
find some prime chronic and smoke it like tonic

repeat that last step, beth, but this time with meth
now crunched, dude, you got to get krunked

repeat that last step, bloke, but this time with coke
now blowed, vato, you got to get throwed

and now you’re ready to go, baby
and i don’t mean maybe

walk out on the street
go on
no one can see you
but take it slow, bro

note: avoid invisibility cloaks. your feet hang out.

—–

Spell

by Deb Whittam

A pinch of aniseed
A clove of garlic
The urine from a deer
Newly departed

A touch of sauerkraut
A roasted black bean
A lock of Hugh Jackman’s hair
Newly cleaned

A touch of hops
A bit of fennel
A bit of dust from the
Nearest dog kennel

A pluck of onion
A scattering of rye
A brand new ipad
Thrown from the sky

Stir it up
Mix it twice
Then drink it up
Vomiting it really nice

Now thrown down the mag
Throw it down hard
I wish all that gossip was true
And Matt Damon was in my front yard

—–

Liar liar pants onfire

by Ruth Scribbles

Hocus locust

Holy smack

Sun of night

Moon of day

Shed your light

On this my prey

Curse the liar

Within my Lair

Burn the tongue

Of the young

Evil one

Begone!

—–

Orisha

by Aderonke

Moody voodoo
Angry Juju
Turn this happiness
Into blue
From the east
To the west
And the deep blue sea
Make these tears run
For all to see

—–

An Evil Brew

by LWBUT

Orcs from Moria,
Goblins from The High Pass.

Wraiths of the Nether-world
Nazgul, Servants of Sauron.

Footpads, ne’er-do-wells,
Conmen, liars and theives.

Schutzstaffel SS,
Brownshirts and Gestapo.

Blood-sucking vampires,
Zombies and the soulless dead.

Combine all together,
give them a common cause,

And one Lord to rule them,
who leaves his Dark Tower…

… Washington sure has changed lately.

—–

Gremlins: A Teenage Mythology

by Lifelessons

A sneeze is how a poltergeist gets outside of you.
At night a different stinky elf sleeps inside each shoe.

Every creaking rafter supports its resident ghost,
and it’s little gremlins who make you burn the toast.

Each night those tricky fairies put snarls in your hair,
while pixies in your sock drawer unsort every pair.

Midnight curtain billows are caused by banshee whistles.
Vampires use your toothbrush and put cooties in its bristles.

Truths all come in singles. It’s lies that come in pairs.
That’s a zombie, not a teenager, sneaking up the stairs.

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Many thanks for entering. Return on the morn, as the dial points to 10, for next week’s inspiration.

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Peregrine Arc: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) for a badge of honor as the winner:

What’s Your Favorite Holiday? Why?

Since I was a younger, smaller, Chelsea, I’ve loved autumn and winter. Perhaps this is why my favorite holidays have always been the autumn and winter varieties: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

In truth, my affinity for the first and last were likely tied to what I received at each.

Still, that love has persisted into adulthood. When the air outside turns cold enough to nip, a piece inside me stirs awake. I’m a reverse-hibernation animal, stretching and standing -even jumping!- when the first snowflakes fall. I associate the drop in temperature with coloring leaves, jack o’lanterns, and the excitement of trick-or-treating.

Once October passes, my memories turn to the distinct taste of a turkey meal and a thousand side dishes. I remember pies as well: pumpkin, pecan, apple, cherry, banana cream. I love them all! As we gather up the Halloween decorations and prepare to host family, I also look forward to all the loved ones I will talk to and spend time with.

Then, of course, comes Christmas. I hate the commercialism of Christmas, beginning with the first trees the stores put up in July and ending with the children’s over-hypered aftermath late Christmas morning. The spirit and feeling of the holiday, however, are what I love the most. Every year, I try to do something to bring happiness in service -the true meaning of Christmas.

Besides its spirit, I also love seeing everyone think of everyone else. My neighbors give each other presents. Most businesses decorate their fronts. We have tradition, and love, and even more time with family.

Today, Mother Nature finally accepted that it’s October. Wind and chill forewarned of her incoming wrath, followed by a severe temperature drop and even a little snow. I stood in the flurry, barefoot and smiling, as the tiny white particles swirled around me in our porch lights.

Autumn is here. Winter is coming. I’m so excited for what they will bring!

Are you? Is your favorite holiday one of mine, or do you prefer another? What do you love best about your favorite holiday?

thanksgiving-3719247_1920

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Here’s what I wrote this last while:
Wednesday, October 2: Wrote “Have We a Core Personality?

Thursday, October 3: Nothing.

Friday, October 4: Distracted everyone with some funny onesies for babies.

Also, announced the winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Congratulations to The Abject Muse! Again!

Saturday, October 5: Introduced the 46th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is a spell, a witch’s brew, an incantation, etc. PLEASE ENTER!

Sunday, October 6: Shared Carrot Ranch‘s Rodeo contest. Charli will be posting a new contest each week, so enter one of them!

Monday, October 7: An inspirational quote by C.S. Lewis.

Tuesday, October 8: “Wilhelmina Winters, One Hundred Seven.” Next week will be the final, final, final, final post for Wil.

Wednesday, October 9: Today.

I also posted all last week at my motherhood site. I wrote “How Do You Dinner?,” “No Kids Allowed: The Death of the Family,” and “The Toilet Seat, a poem.”

 

Photo Credit: Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

©2019 Chelsea Owens

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Hello, unsuspecting readers. Come! Come in! Welcome to the 46th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest.

Ancient texts on bad poetry may be found in multiple tomes; including this one, here. Do not mind the bloodstains. Yes, that may be brain matter -but, most likely not human. Simply open the text and prepare your mind against what will arise from within.

  1. Our Theme, lucky mortals, is a poem of haunting. Specifically, write a recipe for a spell or brew.
  2. The Length depends on ingredients necessary and the language of your incantations (or, those of your Master).
  3. Some -say, of the Macbeth camp- choose to Rhyme their works. Although it may lend power to your process, ’tis fully voluntary to do so.
  4. In case you have not heard, Make it terrible! The ghouls, demons, and even imps of The Underworld (AKA Wal-mart) will appear from the depths of their hiding places (AKA the clearance racks) to moan and despair for the future of your poetic writing.
  5. The Rating may be PG-13 or cleaner.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (October 11) to submit a poem.

Use the form below to hide your identity for a week.

For instant fame amongst Earthly inhabitants, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Do not depend on WordPress’ pingbacks alone, truly a work of those same Wal-mart imps we wish to avoid.

May arcane inspiration bear you to greater depths of atrocity.

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Photo credit: Image by loulou Nash from Pixabay

Hallowe’en Serial: Final Night

Continued from #6.

*Bhrmmmm* *Bhrmmmm* buzzed the phone. Carol kept glancing at its screen to see if Miss Ziegenbusch had picked up yet.

She even knew where the woman lived, as Carol also did the job of Payroll Clerk and Human Resources Department. She did everything except attend pointless meetings, glad-hand clients, and look pretty at the front desk.

Hiring the current secretary, the woman she was now trying to reach, had not actually been Carol’s decision. Nor had retaining her.

“Hello?” said the phone. Carol’s car wobbled in its lane as she fumbled to answer.

“Hello?” –What was her name again?– “Um, Shelly?”

“It’s Cindy. Who’s this?”

“Cindy.” Right. “This is Carol Carter. Um, from work.”

…. “Oh.” …. “Uh, this isn’t the best time right now, Carol-”

For some reason, Carol felt she needed to be completely honest. “I’m being chased by something!”

She heard a gasp, then, “You are? Wait -is it that werewolf thing?”

Carol took a turn gasping. “How did you know?”

“Out of curiosity,” Cindy asked, “Has your radio also been playing songs based on what’s happening?”

Carol felt she was seeing herself from far away. Someone else was driving her car at dangerous speeds down the highway. Someone else was holding a cell phone with a grip like a vise. Someone else, surely, was doing all of these things at …she checked the clock on the dash…

At midnight. It was now Halloween.

“Carol?” Cindy’s voice called from the phone.

“I- I’m here,” Carol answered, pressing her phone closer to her ear.

Cindy sighed. “I thought so. Hey, I’m sorry for any bad feelings between us; but I really need to tell you something -something big.”

Carol wasn’t sure what Cindy could define as ‘big’ after her other revelations. “O…kay?”

“Um,” Cindy began. “You know that werewolf thing?”

As if on cue, Carol heard the tell-tale, Owooooooooo! She realized it had come through the phone, from Cindy’s end. “Cindy?!” she asked, in a panic.

“Oh shit.” Cindy said. “Um, sorry for swearing. I gotta go. …Basement…”

“Cindy?!”

“Yeah…?” Her breathing was more rapid. Carol could hear a door slam and hard steps on echoing stairs.

“What was the ‘big’ thing about the werewolf?”

Cindy paused. A cupboard from her end creaked, then Carol heard the unmistakable sound of a large gun being cocked. “Carol,” Cindy said, “That werewolf is Carl C. Carter. Your husband. I gotta go.”

And Carol was left alone, with the dead sound of a disconnected phone.

Vance’s First Party

Little Vance hid behind his mother’s cape.

“What’s wrong, Vance?” his teacher asked. She kneeled, scratched at an ear, and peered at him.

Vance shivered.

“I think he’s shy,” his mother said. “This is his first Halloween party.”

“Owooooh!” the teacher howled. “Perfectly understandable.”  Rising, she said, “Why don’t you pick a scary story from the cauldron, and we’ll read it.”

Vance shuffled forward. He removed a favorite.

“Ah! Attack of the Garlic! Excellent.” Pawing it open, she began reading.

A mummy, ghoul, and another vampire joined Vance on the rug. Maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

day-of-the-dead-3740794_1920

 

Written, tested, tasted for Susanna Leonard Hill’s Halloweensie Contest.

Boo the Ghost

Boo the Ghost shivered in the doorway of the old, dark house. His job was to haunt it all night.

His friend, Wally the Werewolf, scrambled by. “Hey, Boo! Come howl with me.”

“Sorry,” Boo said. “I can’t.”

Next, Freddy the Frankenstein stomped past. “Hey, Boo! Come moan with me!”

“Sorry,” Boo said. “I can’t.”

Wilma the Witch flew by with her cauldron. “Hi, Boo! Why don’t you come fly?”

“Sorry,” Boo said. “I can’t fly, either.”

All of Boo’s friends looked at each other. “Then,” they said, “WE will come to you.”

And they all haunted the house together.

spirit-1775547_1280

 

Made with the help of all my invisible friends for Susanna Leonard Hill’s Halloweensie Contest.

Wanda Witch

Wanda Witch sat frowning.
Her cauldron sat a-bubbl’ng.
She’d wanted to concoct a treat;
The recipe was troubl’ng.

“Eye of newt? Skin of dog?
Dead frog’s toes and liver?”
The thought of even touching one
Made fingers shake and shiver.

She called her faithful crow;
It came, it perched, it said,
“You need a diff’rent recipe
With yummy things, instead.”

Nodding, Wanda looked around.
The coast was clear and so,
Adding this and stirring that,
Formed a tasty, sug’ry dough.

The cauldron sat, still bubbl’ng.
The crow flew to his rookery.
The witch removed a steaming pan:
Howl-een chocolate cookies.

bubble-2022390_1280

 

Created and simmered for Susanna Leonard Hill’s Halloweensie Contest.

Hallowe’en Serial, 6th Night

Continued from #5.

Carol’s sharp, hasty turn brought her inches from a semi-truck approaching in the opposite lane. Its blaring-horn *Mruuuuuwwwmph!* trailed off behind her as she continued down the road at breakneck speed.

*Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf / Comes a-stepping along* ♪

Her eyes flitted to the radio; back to the road. Werewolf? she thought. And, How in the heck does the radio know?

♫ *…Once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were a flying….* ♪

She chanced another look in the rearview mirror, yet could not see anything. The road was dark and ill-populated. She’d chosen to head East, away from the storm and towards the highway. She hoped to outrun the werewolf -or whatever it was- or at least discourage its following her.

The song stopped and “Thriller” began playing. “I’ve already heard that one,” she muttered, and switched to a new station.

“We’re here with Sergeant Riding to get the latest on this breaking story…” a businesslike female voice said. Carol’s hand, which had been hovering over the controls, slowly drifted back.

“Well,” a gruff male voice began, “We can’t say for sure what’s going on. We’ve had a lot of different reports. What we can say is that everyone ought to stay inside until we have a lead on this case.”

“Sergeant,” the female voice again. “Are you saying we’re on lockdown?”

The man laughed a short, humorless snort. “Now, we’re not trying to scare anybody. It’s more the advice that, if you want to stay safe, you’ll stay inside right now. Oh, and get your pets in real quick, too.”

“We-e-e-ell, I’m sure that’s all we have time for now.” The female reporter sounded worried to Carol. “Be sure to tune in next time for -Eeeeeeeaaaahhhh!”

*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee*

Carol sat in shock. She was hurtling down a city road at 50 mph, but still felt numb. Slowly, she reached up and pushed Power Off on the dead radio station. She didn’t know where to go or who to contact; it sounded like the whole world was going crazy.

Slowing enough to multi-task, she pulled her phone to within visual range.

She had never, ever in her life used her phone while driving, a minor point of contention between her and her missing husband. But she was already finding herself breaking all sorts of personal and written laws in the face of potential death and dismemberment.

Scrolling carefully down her Contacts list, she tried to think of who she could call on a night like this. Anyone she was close to would not be awake to answer, nor would believe such a ridiculous story as she would tell if he or she answered.

“Gardener, Lawrence, Schwartz, Warner… Ziegenbusch.” At literally the end of her list, she paused over the last last name. Was she really desperate enough to try her nemesis, the front desk secretary?

Taking a deep breath, she pressed her finger on the Call icon. And waited.

Continued and ended at #7.