The Shambler from the Swamp

15 October 2022

Damp and cold, encrusted with mold,
The crypt was long forgot.
At breathless pace, forsaking grace,
The thieves would cast their lot.

A stolen glance, they took a chance,
And vaulted o’er the wall.
On sturdy ropes they placed their hopes,
To debt be not enthralled.

Hands slick with rime, they hauled the line
And drew the casket out.
To win this treasure they’d pay all measure
And ban all sense of doubt.

They dropped it down upon the ground,
The framework cracked and splintered.
They didn’t care, were unaware
Of dangers from the interred.

It smelled of rot, but they were hot
To beat the Orange Golem.
They searched the cask, bent to their task,
Not seeing future problems.

The scattered bones, so rudely thrown,
Began to reassemble.
It stood on limbs both lean and trim,
With lips that would dissemble.

Debased, deranged, and quite insane,
A fever’d boiled off half its brain.
It shambled forth, shook off its fetters,
Said, “Here’s the deal, we’ll build back better!”

[ this submission by award winning poet Gene Greigh
took top honors in the 2022 Rio Concho Halloween Poetry contest ]
illustration by Berni Wrightson

an earlier effort, celebrating a more joyous holiday:
On the eve of 4/20, we slept like a log,
And dreamt of the gifts we would get from Snoop Dogg.
We slumbered in bliss, ’cause we knew we would wake
To choice nugs and dank product to keep us quite baked.
19 April 2022