3rd Halloween Poem Contest – 1st Group Of Submitted Poems

 

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Please respect each authors’ and poets’ copyright. The rights remain with the writers. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from each of the poems author’s is strictly prohibited and violates copyright laws in the country you are reading this work in as well as in the country you are trying to re-publish this work in. – Aurora Jean Alexander

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Let’s Shine – by Melody J. Fisher

Four fat hollow pumpkins
Gutted, carved, and lit
Staring from the steps
Of the porch where they sit

One is very frightful
Another dons a hat
The biggest one is smiling
One resembles a cat

They just sit and watch
As the world passes them by
Making observations
Before they shrivel up and dry

They sit in silent judgement
As a couple bicker and complain
Listen in discomfort
As they cause each other pain

They see a little girl
Talking to a strange old man
They watch in quiet horror
As he pulls her into a van

An old lady hobbled past them
Hungry, lonely, and afraid
Her own children abandoned her
When her mind began to fade

“It sure is ugly out there”
The first one says out loud
“Yes,” agrees the scary one
“It must make the devil proud.”

The smiling pumpkin frowned
“Well, his joy will soon end,
I saw a cop rescue the little girl,
And that old lady found a friend.”

“Great!” exclaimed the cat
“The couple made up, too.
I saw him give her flowers…
They were kissing like lovers do.”

“I’ve seen some good things, too,”
Bragged the pumpkin with the hat
“But there’s much work to be done,
I think we all agree on that.”

They sat in awkward silence
As their candles were lit for the night
“As long as we’re here, let’s shine….
This world could use the light.”

 

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The First Halloween – by Chris Graham, The Story Reading Ape

As long nights drew nigh
and fears grew high,
of things not yet seen,
that should never have been.

The Villagers met,
all feeling upset.
With one voice, they declared,
their fears fully bared.

“Who will face
the demonic race
that haunt the living
with no forgiving.”

“Where is the brave one
who will face them alone,
to challenge their power
and before them, not cower?”

“Who will hold fast to the treasure
they seek in good measure?”
“Who has strong enough heart
to make them depart?”

“Who will cast them,
before they cause mayhem,
back to their lairs?”
“It’s no good using prayers.”

“Not I” boomed the Preacher.
“Nor I” proclaimed the Teacher.
“Not I” gulped the Dentist.
”N-n-nor I” stammered the Ventriloquist.

”I will” answered the child
its voice soft and mild.
”YOU will?” scoffed the congregation,
full of indignation.

”Then go, do the deed”
”But you’ll never succeed”
cried the voices of grownups,
some of whom got hiccups.

Thus, so it was, as foretold
by Sages of old.
The Demons will be defeated
and their evil depleted.

By a child, not yet a Teen,
who will take over Halloween.
And drive the demons all mad
by making it FUN Time – not bad.

 

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Grave Choice by Cynthia Morgan

 

Weariness overcame me. Darkness spiraled up from the pit of my stomach, engulfing me, pulling me under, surrounding me. I struggled against it, trying to breath in the suffocating murk, but, like a hypnotic spell, I could not resist the tugging blackness encroaching on my thoughts. Sleep leapt upon me, like a tigress with claws bared, sinking them into my flesh, penetrating deeply, inescapable.

Quiet. Blackness. Sinking. Strange sensations scathed over me. Heaviness. Lightness. Breaking through. Crashing in. Calm tranquility mixed with ethereal panic that left me searching the dimness frantically, but for what I did not know. Light? Breath? Heartbeat?

All was silent. All was Dim.

Fear crashed in on me; a thousand boulders tumbling on my body from out of the dingy night sticking to me, pounding over me without mercy and without ceasing, yet I did not fall. There was no pain, only fear devouring me in the darkness. Echoes of thought whispered from the ebon vastness around me; voices once so bright, filled with life, now empty, hollow, soundless.

What happened to the life that was inside me? Where did my vibrancy go? Try as I might, I could not draw a single breath and the sensation of existing without it was terrifying. Brackish water sloshed around my feet, pouring in from the edges of the darkness, splashing upwards in a slow, inescapable progression; yet my feet felt nailed to the place where I stood. Unable to run, I searched the emptiness around me, horrified to watch the slogging water sucking upward around me, encasing me in icy coldness.

Where was the Light? Wasn’t there a Tunnel of Light? What happened to all the preaching and teaching and reaching from Heaven? Shadows began to move in the deep darkness, slinking towards me in a haze that filled me with dread. Sounds like ravenous animals gnawing bones began to filter through to me. Screeches and cackles more horrendous in sound than any tale from the crypt I had ever heard. Insidious laughter mocked my struggles as I fought to escape the unrelenting icy embalmment closing around me.

Then all went silent as a single voice spoke from the darkness staining itself crimson over my head. I listened, aghast at the familiarity of the tone and inflection. It was my own voice. It was me, speaking out of the past to haunt my own soul and as I listened, bitter tears slipped down my pallid cheeks, falling into the freezing water encircling my chest, my neck, sloshing upward over my chin, my nose, consuming me.

“I have everything I could ever want or need. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, more influence than I know how to use, and more friends than I can count. ……………
What do I need God for?”

 

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MOUNTAIN CASTLE by Frank Hubeny

In my mountainous castle well hidden away
There’s my beast getting restless for lightness of day
And the blood that I seek must be innocent, sweet,
So delight feeds the brain and my rapture’s complete.

How I long that the travelers wandering by
Be so true that they capture my sensitive eye.
How I long that they tarry so I’ll have a bite
Of the glory of goodness lost deep in the night.

Ah, look! There’s a traveler coming toward me,
To my mountainous castle all lost by the sea,
To the doom that awaits him.  His way seems so sure
With a heart pumping love and deliciously pure.

He is knocking.  I’ll open the door to his death.
He is breathing but soon he will not take a breath.
Then at the table aged wine I may taste
With his flesh, raw and bloody–there’s no time to waste.

But wait! My hand moves but it can’t free the door.
The traveler turns. He won’t knock anymore.
Have I grown out so ghostly my body has gone?
Have I nothing but fantasies I can put on?

 

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This is only the first group of submissions. Please, keep them coming and make it really hard for the jury to decide on the winners!

A. J. Alexander

 

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3rd Halloween Poem Contest – How To Submit Your Poem

 

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To all participants of the 3rd Halloween Poem Contest:

THANK YOU!!

Thanks so much for sending your poem to me and make this 3rd contest an exciting one.

 

But please, remember the rules on how to submit your poem!

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, a social media account or blog

1. Your poem needs a Halloween theme.
2. Your poem needs a minimum of 99 words.
3. Your poem has to be delivered to my email address until Halloween, October 31, 2015, 9 pm Central Standard Time.
4. Please avoid violence, bad language, and sexual content within the poems. It would be disqualified.

Very often the submitted poems are too short, I’m missing the pictures and links that should go with the poem.

Thank you very much for participating and making it easier for me to post your poem on ‘Writer’s Treasure Chest’.

 

3rd Halloween Poem Contest – Start!

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It’s

October 10, 2017

1st Day of the 3rd Halloween Poem Contest, here on ‘Writer’s Treasure Chest’.

It has started!

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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, if possible, a link to their website and/or blog).

  1. There are a few rules to follow:
  2. Your poem needs a Halloween theme.
  3. Your poem needs a minimum of 99 words.
  4. Your poem has to be delivered to my email address until Halloween, October 31, 2015, 9 pm Central Standard Time.
  5. 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, if possible, link).

The contest starts October 10, 2017 06.00 am and ends October 31, 2017 09.00 pm Central Standard Time!!

Please, deliver your poem and your picture to my email address within this time frame, neither earlier, nor later. Poems arriving outside these 3 weeks will be disqualified. (The poets who had sent me their entries already, please re-send, otherwise I cannot accept them. Thank you for your understanding)

aurorajean.alexander@aol.com

We’re looking forward to your poems! Write away, ladies and gentlemen, we are ready!

A. J. Alexander

3rd Halloween-Poem Contest – Jury introduction – and Start Up

 

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JURY:

I am honored to announce that the following authors have agreed to participate as judges in the jury who will decide on the winners of the contest:

  1. Author Kitt Crescendo
  2. Author Joy Lennick
  3. Author A. J. Alexander  

 

Thank you, authors, for your effort to be part of this contest!

There will be three winners in the 3rd Halloween poem contest. Each of them is free to choose from the following prizes:

  1. E-Book of  either “Three For All” OR “Four One Night” written by Kitt Crescendo
  2. E-book of  either one of the three “My Gentle War“, “The Catalyst“,  OR “Where Angels And Devils Tread“,  written by Joy Lennick
  3. E-book of “The Dark Side Of A Promise“, written by Allan F. Hudson

I’m very grateful for these excellent authors to offer one of their books as a prize in this contest. Thank you!

 

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START UP!! OCTOBER 10, 2017

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, if possible, a link to their website and/or blog).

  1. There are a few rules to follow:
  2. Your poem needs a Halloween theme.
  3. Your poem needs a minimum of 99 words.
  4. Your poem has to be delivered to my email address until Halloween, October 31, 2015, 9 pm Central Standard Time.
  5. 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, if possible, link).

The contest starts October 10, 2017 06.00 am and ends October 31, 2017 09.00 pm Central Standard Time!!

Please, deliver your poem and your picture to my email address within this time frame, neither earlier, nor later. Poems arriving outside these 3 weeks will be disqualified.

aurorajean.alexander@aol.com

We’re looking forward to your poems! Write away, ladies and gentlemen, we are ready!

A. J. Alexander

3rd Halloween-Poem Contest

 

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It is a great pleasure for me to announce the

3rd Halloween-Poem Contest

on ‘Writer’s Treasure Chest’.
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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.

There are a few rules to follow:

  1. Your poem needs a Halloween theme.
  2. Your poem needs a minimum of 99 words.
  3. Your poem has to be delivered to my email address until Halloween, October 31, 2017, 9 pm Central Standard Time.
  4. 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.

 

End of this month I will introduce this years jury members to you. I am very proud that these authors agreed to be part of our contest.

 

The contest starts October 10, 2017 06.00 am and ends October 31, 2017 09.00 pm Central Standard Time!!

 

Please, deliver your poem and your picture to my email address within this time frame, neither earlier, nor later. Poems arriving outside these 3 weeks will be disqualified.

 

aurorajean.alexander@aol.com

 

We’re looking forward to your poems!

 

A. J. Alexander

A Research On The Most Exquisite Jewelry on Earth

Being bored lately and reading a good book I once more stumbled across the famous “Faberge Eggs” and finally decided to do some real research on them. Of course, I had heard of them earlier, saw the one or other picture, but I never tried to find out where exactly they came from, how many existed and still exist and how exactly they look like.

I thought, I never know when it mind come in handy knowing more about all this and went to work. Maybe either one of you writers can use this information for one of your books, so, if you can – help yourself!

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Picture courtesy of wikipedia

Peter Carl Fabergé

Peter Carl Fabergé, also known as Karl Gustavovich Faberge (Karl Gustavovich Faberzhe; 30 May 1846 – 24 September 1920), was a Russian jeweller best known for the famous Fabergé eggs made in the style of genuine Easter eggs, but using precious metals and gemstones rather than more mundane materials.

He was born in Saint Petersburg, Russia, to the Baltic German jeweller Gustav Fabergé and his Danish wife Charlotte Jungstedt.
In 1864, Peter Carl embarked upon a Grand Tour of Europe. He received tuition from respected goldsmiths in Germany, France and England, attended a course at Schloss’s Commercial College in Paris, and viewed the objects in the galleries of Europe’s leading museums.
His travel and study continued until 1872, when at the age of 26 he returned to St. Petersburg and married Augusta Julia Jacobs. For the following 10 years, his father’s trusted workmaster Hiskias Pendin acted as his mentor and tutor.

When Peter Carl took over the House, there was a move from producing jewelry in the then-fashionable French 18th century style to becoming artist-jewellers. Fabergé’s production of the very first so-called Fabergé egg, the Hen Egg, given as a gift from the Tsar to his wife Maria Fyodorovna on Orthodox Easter (24 March) of 1885 so delighted her that on 1 May the Emperor assigned Fabergé the title Goldsmith by special appointment to the Imperial Crown of that year.

In light of the Empress’ response to receiving one of Fabergé’s eggs on Easter, the Tsar soon commissioned the company to make an Easter egg as a gift for her every year thereafter. The Tsar placed an order for another egg the following year. Beginning in 1887, the Tsar apparently gave Carl Fabergé complete freedom with regard to egg designs, which then became more and more elaborate. According to Fabergé Family tradition, not even the Tsar knew what form they would take— the only stipulation was that each one should be unique and each should contain a surprise. Upon the death of Alexander III, his son, the next Tsar, Nicholas II, followed this tradition and expanded it by requesting that there be two eggs each year, one for his mother (who was eventually given a total of 30 such eggs) and one for his wife, Alexandra (who received another 20). These Easter gift eggs are today distinguished from the other jeweled eggs Fabergé ended up producing by their designation as “Imperial Easter eggs” or “Tsar Imperial Easter eggs”. The tradition continued until the October Revolution when the entire Romanov dynasty was executed and the eggs and many other treasures were confiscated by the interim government. The two final eggs were never delivered nor paid for.

In 1916, the House of Fabergé became a joint-stock company with a capital of 3-million rubles.
The following year upon the outbreak of the October Revolution, the business was taken over by a ‘Committee of the Employees of the Company K Fabergé. In 1918 The House of Fabergé was nationalised by the Bolsheviks. In early October the stock was confiscated. The House of Fabergé was no more.

After the nationalisation of the business, Carl Fabergé left St. Petersburg on the last diplomatic train for Riga. In mid-November, the Revolution having reached Latvia, he fled to Germany and first settled in Bad Homburg and then in Wiesbaden. Eugène, the Fabergés’ eldest, travelled with his mother in darkness by sleigh and on foot through snow-covered woods and reached Finland in December 1918. During June 1920, Eugène reached Wiesbaden and accompanied his father to Switzerland where other members of the family had taken refuge at the Bellevue Hotel in Pully, near Lausanne.
Peter Carl Fabergé never recovered from the shock of the Russian Revolution He died in Switzerland on September 24, 1920. His family believed he died of a broken heart.

(Source: Wikipedia)

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The Fabergé Eggs

It seems there was a total of 65 Faberge Eggs made, 50 of them were the so called “Imperial Eggs,” gifts from the Tsar of Russia to either wife or wife and mother.

I could, of course, go and name each one of them, copy and insert all necessary information. This would guarantee you’re bored to death and that this blog post would reach from here to Outer Mongolia, but I found, in fact, a page, who provides us with all necessary and interesting information about the eggs. The year they were made, who they were made for, the owners, pictures and more.
Thank you very much, Mieks, of ‘Wintraeken‘, Netherlands, who has created the most informative and colorful pages about the Faberge Eggs.

Clicking HERE takes you directly to Miek’s list of eggs. Each egg-name turns into a pop-up which gives you a picture of the respective egg with all interesting information.

 

 

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The House of Fabergé

 

After the brand name “House of Fabergé” has been sold – and sold again, serving as a name for cosmetics, alcohol as well as fashion, it finally ended up back in the hands of a family member, Tatjana Faberge who reunited the Family name with the Family in 2007.
The entire history of what happened after the House of Fabergé was nationalized in 1918 can be read on the Fabergé Website. (Click the logo)

Picture courtesy of: Faberge.com

 

And, in case you’re interested, what Fabergé does nowadays, I strongly recommend to check out their website. I believe that they still created some of the most impressive, unique and wonderful jewelry existing. A kaleidoscope of gems, forms, and metal that make the most beautiful woman’s heart beat faster.

 

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All there’s left to do for me is, showing you my favorite Fabergé-Egg. It is the 1898 ‘Lillies of the Valley’ Egg, a gift from Tsar Nicholas to Alexandra.  Which one is yours?

Picture courtesy of: http://www.wintraecken.nl/

 

 

 

 

A Sick Writer

By now I guess, it’s known that I have been sick for a few weeks, being ‘blessed’ with shingles and pneumonia to the same time. I could have done the one without both, but after all, I’m afraid, I had to take it the way it got me.

Now, being in pain and feeling sick, having a fever and not finding any comfortable position, I wasn’t able to do much more than drinking, resting, sleeping, watching TV and trying to keep my cats away from climbing on me.

And here exactly is the point I start complaining…

I’m a writer. A sick writer. And I would have loved to ‘use’ the time getting some work done. Typing, blogging, scribbling, planning new stories, reading and whatever else belongs to a writer’s life, but I had no chance.

Shingles caused me that much pain that all I could do was trying to find a way to spend the days on the couch with plenty of pain killers inside of me that nearly knocked me out. There was no way I would have been able to sit behind the computer and type much.

I was unable to turn onto my stomach to write by hand on paper. And when I tried to read I started feeling dizzy enough, I was ready to vomit.

I wanted to work, develop ideas, find new characters, plots, storylines, whatever came into my mind, and nothing was possible.

But of course I’m smart, right? I got my phone next to me. And whenever I had an idea, I recorded it. What a wonderful girl I am! The idea would have been amazing, if…

… yes, there’s an ‘if’…

… if, I hadn’t been too sick to make sense.

Yes, you can laugh. I did too once I listened to my ‘notes’. I was sick enough that I couldn’t hear much more than some mumbling. And if there was a clear word or two, it didn’t make sense.

My fever was high enough to cook my brain, which means, the ideas I got are entirely useless. This is annoying and nearly make me consider getting either a secretary, a nurse – or both.

I’m almost sure I’m not the only writer ever being sick. How are you doing this? Are you able to use your time fruitfully during this forced break? If yes, how are you doing it? Thank you for your advice!

Picture courtesy of wikimedia