The Pumpkin

A simple pumpkin carved up and neat would not thrill my heart to beat

this one was far from simple with its fang-like grin
and its wicked glow that could fill you with sin

its bleeding seeds spilt out over the top
flames all around would crackle and pop

the stump was fleshy, rotten and old
the roots stretched far and steamed with cold

a blood red light filled the valley with its flick
without a candle or a wick

the closer I drew
the smaller the flame grew

so that darkness pressed in at my back
and drove my poor horse to crack

The Horse and the Reason

My horse was bred for war

but we had encountered far more

after that strange site of inanimate gore

hoof struck ground with a massive spur

I fumbled for the reins but the wild mare forced me to grip fur

as the trees flew past at a pace set to fright

however to be clear of that foul place was my delight

and soon we would have our last fight

in the barrows of Hel's Gate

I would not want the mistress of death to wait

for while i fought tooth and nail for my people

no warriors were found to be my equal

I suspect of the fiends i won't kill all

I'll just fight until death and then Valhol

The Barrows

At first sight of that wicked mound
his horse froze
entranced in terror of the barrows

He dismounted and held his breath
the structure spoke volumes of death

A flame flew from every crevice and crack
of the stacked stones that were plain but black

It dwarfed the trees, the big man and also his horse
the air was cold and ashen the ground burnt, frozen, and coarse

Fire and ice mixed within the bowels and out of the top leaked steam
billowing down and fogging all around so it appeared to be a dream

His leather and steel boot hit the ground and fell thru several feet
to land on a strange surface underneath made of... meat?

Chest deep in the cold ash of a land fully hollow

he forged on to the gate and drew his bow

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