In need of a Halloween Poem
- Thread starter DeJager
- Start date
I write in my spare time.
Here's a creepy poem i wrote for the Xmas season 3 years ago: http://www.ernestworthing.com/unveiled.html
See if you like it. I write in various styles, so if you're looking for a specific one, let me know.
Deadline?
Any compensation?
Here's a creepy poem i wrote for the Xmas season 3 years ago: http://www.ernestworthing.com/unveiled.html
See if you like it. I write in various styles, so if you're looking for a specific one, let me know.
Deadline?
Any compensation?
How long does it need to be?
Do you have a rhyme scheme in mind?
Any specific details to include?
Do you have a rhyme scheme in mind?
Any specific details to include?
Sounds good to me and the deadline gives me more than enough time to find a few spare nights to work on it.
Im in if you want me. Just PM or email me. Josh and Nick are talented people so you cant go wrong, whomever you pick.
Im in if you want me. Just PM or email me. Josh and Nick are talented people so you cant go wrong, whomever you pick.
I also need a poem for a 30 second promo in the same way but for a crazed killer Santa Claus, thus being a Christmas poem. He's trying to save Christmas by killing the naughty kids. I'm open for interpretation! It's for the same movie 
I'm excited to see what you all come up with!!
I'm excited to see what you all come up with!!
Doomed children crawl into her evil trap,
By spirits drawn to her accursed lap,
Sprites and goblins do her bidding chores,
The bubbling pot remains the wicked cause,
And so when children choose to run away,
They're hidden by the disappearing day,
Their flesh and bones make quite the magic broth,
And cloak the witch in sheets of wicked cloth,
Their goodness burns amidst the crackling flame,
No trace, on her, of pity or of shame,
And so the weeping child is put to sleep,
And cruel spells rise from where he once did weep.
* * *
Just bashed something out quickly! Wanted to have some fun with iambic pentameter
That sort of shit excites me...
By spirits drawn to her accursed lap,
Sprites and goblins do her bidding chores,
The bubbling pot remains the wicked cause,
And so when children choose to run away,
They're hidden by the disappearing day,
Their flesh and bones make quite the magic broth,
And cloak the witch in sheets of wicked cloth,
Their goodness burns amidst the crackling flame,
No trace, on her, of pity or of shame,
And so the weeping child is put to sleep,
And cruel spells rise from where he once did weep.
* * *
Just bashed something out quickly! Wanted to have some fun with iambic pentameter
That sort of shit excites me...