Happy Halloween from the Original Creepster!

I've never been too big into the super scariness of Halloween. I actually remember crying all night on one of the first Halloweens that my family spent in this country. I was staying the night with this sitter that had about 8 of us kids whose parents worked crazy hours, and someone thought it was a good idea to pop in "Nightmare on Elm Street" or something equally ridiculous. As soon as they turned it on, it was over. I more or less lost it...probably more:-) I was so not used to the scary, scary stuff. At school we had learned that Halloween was a day of free candy. Who can find fault with free candy? But scary, crazy men trying to kill people? That was a bit much for my 7 year old mind. And I've honestly never been the same. I used to play along and follow my friends to see the scary movies and do the haunted hay rides and such, but no more. I can't even stomach the thought of scary somethings jumping out of the bushes. Just cant!! So there you are, world - my deepest, darkest secret:-)

But that doesn't mean i can't appreciate a good, creepy poem as much as the next person. Who better to help us celebrate the day of spooks than Mr. Creepster himself - Edgar Allan Poe.

Enjoy and Happy Haunting!

The Haunted Palace
BY Edgar Allan Poe

In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace
Radiant palace reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This all this was in the olden
Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tunëd law,
Bound about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn! for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate !)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh but smile no more.