Why do I smile like this you ask,

as if you didn't know.

Is it the brightness of my orange

or my inside glimmery glow?

CARVING PUMPKINS

She slashes
she dashes
she twirls around

Pumpkin seeds spill
on the pan
and the ground

I believe that every pumpkin has a personality,

and their carvers wield the power to set their egos free,

thus we shouldn't

Velvet flesh with orange hue

Lend me juices

Sweet and true.

Relent as I, hell bent

With dagger, gauge

And sing out-loud

Poetry: Carving pumpkins

Our pumpkin has a saddened face,
It wasn't our intention,
His grimace is a sad disgrace,
And hardly