Tag: Instant Noodles Literary Magazine

by Nadja Maril

Halloween. The weather turns cool. Leaves on the trees change colors, fall to the ground, and orange pumpkins are set out on porches. As a child it was a big deal to decide, what sort of costume I’d find and wear, for Trick or Treating and parties. But first, it was important to get into the mood and one poem, in my favorite book of poems would always do the trick. In the original spelling, the author wrote orphant not orphan. So I knew the poem as Little Orphan Annie. The illustration showed a young woman in front of a kitchen hearth with small children gathered around her. I loved reading this poem, Little Orphan Annie, which was both fun and scary.

Here’s the original version written by James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916) an American poet who hailed from Indiana, who was also a  journalist. Folksinger Anne Hill has done a lovely job in the country bluegrass style, setting this poem to music and you can listen to her sing it here.

Little Orphant Annie

by James Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphant Annie’s come to our house to stay,
An’ wash the cups an’ saucers up, an’ brush the crumbs away,
An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth, an’ sweep,
An’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her board-an’-keep;
An’ all us other childern, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an’ has the mostest fun
A-list’nin’ to the witch-tales ‘at Annie tells about,
An’ the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you
             Ef you
                Don’t
                   Watch
                      Out!

Onc’t they was a little boy wouldn’t say his prayers,—
So when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an’ his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An’ when they turn’t the kivvers down, he wasn’t there at all!
An’ they seeked him in the rafter-room, an’ cubby-hole, an’ press,
An’ seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an’ ever’wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found was thist his pants an’ roundabout–
An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git you
             Ef you
                Don’t
                   Watch
                      Out!

An’ one time a little girl ‘ud allus laugh an’ grin,
An’ make fun of ever’one, an’ all her blood an’ kin;
An’ onc’t, when they was “company,” an’ ole folks was there,
She mocked ‘em an’ shocked ‘em, an’ said she didn’t care!
An’ thist as she kicked her heels, an’ turn’t to run an’ hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin’ by her side,
An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’ ‘fore she knowed what she’s about!
An’ the Gobble-uns’ll git you
             Ef you
                Don’t
                   Watch
                      Out!

An’ little Orphant Annie says when the blaze is blue,
An’ the lamp-wick sputters, an’ the wind goes woo-oo!
An’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray,
An’ the lightnin’-bugs in dew is all squenched away,–
You better mind yer parents, an’ yer teachers fond an’ dear,
An’ churish them ‘at loves you, an’ dry the orphant’s tear,
An’ he’p the pore an’ needy ones ‘at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns’ll git you
             Ef you
                Don’t
                   Watch
                      Out!

American poet Carl Sandburg (1878-1967) takes a different approach with this beautiful poem that captures the magic of nature while igniting the element of the unknown.

Theme in Yellow

by Carl Sandburg

I spot the hills

With yellow balls in autumn.

I light the prairie cornfields

Orange and tawny gold clusters

And I am called pumpkins.

On the last of October

When dusk is fallen

Children join hands

And circle round me

Singing ghost songs

And love to the harvest moon;

I am a jack-o’-lantern

With terrible teeth

And the children know

I am fooling.

Fun and intimate, is how I’d characterize this third poem by American poet Sarah Teasdale (1884-1933).  Which leads to the question of what kind of poem you’d write, if tasked with writing a “Halloween Poem.”

Dusk in Autumn

By Sarah Teasdale

The moon is like a scimitar,

A little silver scimitar,

A-drifting down the sky.

And near beside it is a star,

A timid twinkling golden star,

That watches likes an eye.

And thro’ the nursery window-pane

The witches have a fire again,

Just like the ones we make,—

And now I know they’re having tea,

I wish they’d give a cup to me,

With witches’ currant cake.

Decorate the outside of your house with scary poems. Instead of fortune cookies give out treats with poetry inside. Halloween is a time for bonfires and storytelling. What a great time to recite poetry. Don’t forget to follow us on Facebook and follow this blog. Today is October 9th which means there’s less than one week left to submit your Cooold Turkey themed Holiday/End of the Year start of a New Year Winter Poems (2), or very short fiction or fact to Instant Noodles Literary Magazine. Members of the Old Scratch Press Collective are guest editors for this upcoming issue. Submission Link here