Little Zombie

Little Zombie

By Karen R. Sanderson

My zombie friend, Megan

Little zombie, you think you’re stylish?

Blood drippin’ down your shirt.

With your herky-jerky, lumbering lurch.

Ain’t ‘gonna get us, we’re on alert.

 

Little zombie, right next door,

Tearing through their chain link fencing.

Banging down the neighbor’s entry.

Your inhuman strength is oh-so frightening!

 

Little zombie, you’re so scary.

Are those brains, gray and mushy,

Spilled upon your dirty feet?

Don’t look now, your toes are squishing.

 

What yellow fangs you’re a baring.

Gaping mouth, you’re getting anxious.

Baseball bats don’t knock you down.

We’ll have to raid the gun collection.

 

See my boy, he’s packing heat.

He’ll use his gun to make you dead.

To his shoulder, butt stock goes,

Oh little zombie, where’s your head?

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A poem contained in No Boundaries, A Collection of Poetry, by

Karen R. Sanderson. Soon to be launched.

On Halloween

On Halloween

Who would ride a broomstick

As the witches do –

Straight across the pebbly stars

On a street of blue?

I should! I should!

(If mother came, too).

Who would take a wildcat,

With eyes all yellow-green

To ride upon her broomstick

Late on Halloween?

I should! I should!

(If mother sat between).

____________

A poem contained in No Boundaries, A Collection of Poetry,

by Karen R. Sanderson. Soon to be launched.