In the spirit of the season, pun intended, I'd like to share two vampire poems: One by Kenn Nesbitt, U.S. Children's Poet Laureate, and one by Andrea Perry, resident Route 19 Writers rhymer. You can count on both of them to produce a toothy grin:)
I think my dad is Dracula.
I know that sounds insane,
but listen for a moment and
allow me to explain.
We don't live in a castle,
and we never sleep in caves.
But, still, there's something weird
about the way my dad behaves.
I never see him go out
in the daytime when it's light.
He sleeps all day till evening,
then he leaves the house at night.
He comes home in the morning
saying, "Man, I'm really dead!"
He kisses us goodnight, and then
by sunrise he's in bed.
My mom heard my suspicion
and she said, "You're not too swift.
Your father's not a vampire.
He just works the graveyard shift."
--Kenn NesbittI know that sounds insane,
but listen for a moment and
allow me to explain.
We don't live in a castle,
and we never sleep in caves.
But, still, there's something weird
about the way my dad behaves.
I never see him go out
in the daytime when it's light.
He sleeps all day till evening,
then he leaves the house at night.
He comes home in the morning
saying, "Man, I'm really dead!"
He kisses us goodnight, and then
by sunrise he's in bed.
My mom heard my suspicion
and she said, "You're not too swift.
Your father's not a vampire.
He just works the graveyard shift."
Count Dracula is
getting old
And less
bloodthirsty, we are told.
As far from youth as
you can be
And so long in the
tooth is he,
That we have heard
his bark, at night,
Is worse for victims
than his bite.
--Andrea Perry
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