Halloween Curse

When the Halloween party began with a boo,
Ichabod once again turned the air a dark blue.
He was one to swear freely wherever he went;
and he did so again at this costumed event.

I. B dressed like a warlock which gave him a rush.
I had heard even covens of witches did blush
when he spoke a few words at the East-Wick Witch Rite;
they were happy to bid him good riddance that night.

And so Swearing arrived at the party with verve;
the kind host was dismayed and appalled at his nerve.
(At the witch rite he spent little time, though he talked;
  then to get to the party, I. B. simply walked.)

Now amenities came with a sting of the tongue;
(Ichabod tried to watch his tongue when he was young.)
But his tongue came of age and then with a growth spurt
Swearing’s language was laced with words covered in dirt.

Now the first attendee Swearing noticed inside
was a witch on a broom in a state of abide.
He approached her and said, “How the blank does it go?”
(You can fill in the blank from obscenity row.)

Well, the witch did a dance as if bats were in skirt;
then she poked her long nose in his face, then his shirt.
And then like the three witches that howled in Macbeth,
I. B. Swearing heard curses that scared him to death.

But he came back to life and he went ghost to ghost,
every now and then winking at his gracious host.
He attempted to talk with the specters that be,
yet his words were a scythe that caused specters to flee.

Ichabod took a break from the usual chat
when he noticed, across the room, a spacious vat.
There were apples for bobbing--Swearing felt the need;
apropos, since I. B. had a big mouth, indeed.

Thus he entered his face in the vat-apple fray;
he extended his tongue but curse words were at bay.
Then like snake jaws unhinged, he clamped onto a Rome;
something sweet in the flavoring carried him home.

Unbeknownst to I. B., they were candied, all right.
Candied apples for bobbing, a party delight.
Swearing tasted the sweet at this Halloween blast,
and now swearing is simply a thing of the past.


40 Lines
Anapestic Tetrameter
Writer’s Cramp Winner
10-30-15