Completion

On being asked to write about what this date, celebrated as 
Halloween (which is based on Samhain) truly means to me.

Tonight

I would light a candle.

I would stand it

beside your photo.

Tonight

I’d recall

the daily rituals

of our time together.

Tonight

I’d set a place for you

at our table.

Tonight we’d feast.

If it were truly Samhain

here in the warm South,

that is what I’d do.

However, it’s Beltane.

The hot, hot summer

is coming. But

the way we ushered it in

my dear, is over.

You are ghost or angel,

more ethereal than smoke.

And I shall be lighting
no fires tonight.

Image: Beltane Fire Dancer by NataliaLeFay (free download)

Note: For those who don't know, Beltane is traditionally celebrated with sexual passion. 

This was written when my late husband, Andrew, had been dead only two years. I'm sharing it now, 31 October 2025, with Poets and Storytellers United at Friday Writings #201: On Halloween. Having written a number of Halloween poems over the years, rather than write another I'm choosing to show this old one to an audience that didn't see it last time. 

31 Poems in 31 Days (Poewar / Writers Resource Center). Prompt: Completion.

Also a follow-on to the previous poem, which was in response to Poets United's Midweek Motif: Halloween, or Celebrating the Dead.

On Samhain Night

On Samhain night, when the veil is thin,

I collect photos of those gone before.

I set them out for viewing,

I do them honour.

It is the time of festivity for them,

our predecessors — sires, mothers,

siblings, lovers, spouses, friends,

others even longer gone….

How deeply must we reverence

those who bestowed their love

upon us, those who were here

in their lives, living.

They were here in their homes;

they knew us.  They return

to our homes which were theirs

for one night’s visit.

We owe them this: for love, for blood,

for respect, for the proper

sequence of things, for every

bond which lingers.

This is the time which we give

to them, to remember

who they were then, once —

now only ghosts.

Welcome, beloveds. We esteem you.

Here is your spot — sit, dine!

Be with us. When you go, rest

in our love until next time.

31 Poems in 31 Days (Poewar / Writers Resource Center). Prompt: Use no words with the letter a, except one word where it appears twice.

Poets United Midweek Motif: Halloween, or Celebrating the Dead; what does it truly mean to you?  (I addressed the prompt as given. However, this is the Southern Hemisphere! For what this date really signifies to me, see the next poem.)

No Halloween

Last year there was a knock.

Three little girls from over the road

had climbed our front steps.

Two were dressed witchy,

the littlest one was a fairy

with gauzy wings. 'Oh come and look!'

I said to my love in his armchair.

Both of us, in the narrow doorway,

bent forward to smile and admire.

Luckily I found some jellybeans to give

and had enough left, an hour later,

when a stout little boy arrived alone 

looking brave and hopeful

in his cardboard wizard's hat

and pillowcase cape.

This year I was well prepared

with a whole bowl of mixed lollies.

I thought they could each take a handful

like a sort of lucky dip. 'I'll definitely

get visitors tonight,' I told my friends. But no. 

It's nearly ten. The street is very quiet. 

Are they — or their parents — 

being sensitive, choosing not to disturb 

newly widowed me alone at the top of my steps?

I remember his face last year

tender with delight, beaming

at the young ones and their costumes.

He was hunched, and later we didn't

celebrate Beltane traditionally

(our real Sabbat here on this date)

because his back was hurting.

I wrote a poem instead — as I do tonight.

I have no Beltane fire, but I'll light 

a candle for love, which will not die.

Submitted for dVerse OpenLinkNight #68

31st October

The little girls from across the road

came trick-or-treating tonight

in their witch and fairy costumes.

We’d forgotten Halloween, crude

corruption of Samhain — 

which anyway is a different season 

here, different time of year.

But we had some jellybeans,

emergency rations in case

his blood sugar drops. I poured a handful 

into their empty icecream bucket.

I wonder what they’d have said

if they’d known the smiling old couple,

their neigbours, were actual witches.

Submitted for Poets United's Poetry Pantry #73.

Sharing 11 years later with Poets and Storytellers United at Friday Writings #50, where Rommy invites us, in honour of Halloween, to share something 'sweet'.  This old Halloween memory is a sweet one, and also the poem mentions the traditional giving of sweets.

This poem also appears in Sherry's feature for Poets United: Poems for a Witchy Halloween, along with poems by herself and Magaly Guerrero.