I liked it, a lot of words, but I liked it :)
my couple protest are for the two lines ending in "choke" and that three ended in "plain", they felt overused.
Also, I noticed that the third and the last lines are somewhat inconsistent with each other.
Good descriptions, I liked that it appealed to an array of senses.

cheers,
logic

Welcome to Neopoet. Good story and the rhymes were spot on. I would only suggest that you consider breaking it into 4 line stanzas and try to even up the length of lines a bit to help with the rhythm. Looking forward to more........scribbler

.."fire burn and cauldron bubble." as far as I remember.

Will be back, it is said in some circles that all the saints wake the dead and they are not all frightening, its what we have made the night into that is frightening, so many love indulging in creating fear. I too liked the thought when I was at school and the red haired teacher said in her plumby voice through her thick lipstick, paint the saints coming out of their graves,; perviously her ideas of what to paint had been boring things but this got me painting and she was impressed.

The excuse to dress up and concoct potions like the three witches in Shakespeare's Macbeth, was always fun and when I go out into the corridor here in the flats in Oslo, I meet so many little witches there.

I am going to look at this one but it won't be straight away!!!!

Regards Ann.

Its true that what you write influences your own feelings and attitudes to life, but do not take away this poem just because it is dark, the dark sides of life only enhance the bright sides and without the devil in Christian religion there couldn't be a god either.

After all its fun to dabble in the dark colours of a palette when painting, the shadows of life, life is full with ALL the colours and the joy of it is creating something that can move us, stop us, for the moment we see, hear or read it, that moment is ART.

Love Ann.

P:S: I think it would be more palatable in verses and not as one big block, some are put off from reading things thus presented.

Like this:-

GHOST TRAIN

I hear a train whistle blowing about a half mile away,
Under the covers is where I will stay.
The devil is riding the ghost train picking up lost souls,
taking them to hell amongst the heated coals.

Every living person must hide and keep still,
Away from glass doors away from the window sill.
A dark and scary night is upon me tonight,
A cold chill fills the air and so does fright.

October 31 on all hallows eve,
I wish so badly I could just leave.
That old black ghost train gives an eerie sound,
a sound that rattles through the town.

A cold sweat is covering me and a tremble I can feel,
I lay here in my bed wishing this wasn't real.
A hoot owl has been hollering outside my window for the passed six nights,
Must have been a warning call before he took off to flight.

I must fight the urge to give up and walk outside the door,
I'm afraid of what's in store.
I hear a train whistle blowing about a quarter mile away,
I long for the light of day.

The smell of blood and death hang in the air now,
I wish I wasn't afraid but I don't know how.
Tears drip in my hair and sweat on my fingernails,
I can hear the helpless cries of souls and their horrid whales.

The hoot owl is on the tree limb amongst the old oak,
he lets out one last screech and sounds as though he will choke.
My power suddenly goes out and adds to my fear,
A terrible time this is that must come once a year.

I look out through my window and see the old ghost train,
It's in my view now quite clear and plain.
It's long and black and it's puffing out gray smoke,
a smokey smell of death and blood enough to make me choke.

Another night I set through on this sinful night,
Sitting covered in blankets overtaken by fright.
I hear a train whistle blowing right outside my door,
I want it to go away I can't take it anymore.

I look out the window and into the train,
And then I see a horrid view which is very plain.
A little red man with eyes of fire and horns on his head,
a pointed tail curled around and a skeleton body of the undead.

And now my biggest fear is unveiled and plain,
The devil is driving that old ghost train.

Its a wonderful poem I love it just so.
Well done Nichole.
Ann.