The Night Garden Party
by Jacqui Bateman
The stars hung suspended in the black velvet night,
like fairylites boosted with steroids.
The full silver moon shining its searchlight
on the night garden party for fabulous fiends.
Tonight is an extra-ordinary night,
the fiends will gather for music and dance
There are demons and witches and magical folk
dancing with phantoms and vampires and ghouls,
they spin across the makeshift dance-floor
constructed over the graves of the ghosts.
The spider’s webs pulsing to the beat of the base
the other night creatures lurking in shadow
The band ceased abruptly when catastrophe struck
the zombie guitarist’s fingers fell off
in a particularly intricate chord change.
An SOS was sent out to the crowd
solved by a fabulous, fiendish fiddler
who could alternate with Uileann pipes
The fiendish fiddler played like a demon
And alternately piped like an angel.
She sent the spirits of the fiends soaring
covering dirges and jigs and ballads.
The zombie’s fingers were sewn on by Igorb
but she had already been surpassed.
The harpies were banned because they’re really
no fun; the banshees sang up a storm.
The ghouls prepared food for all of the guests,
the vampires brought full bodied blood and wine.
Last to arrive were the were-animals,
sleek fur shimmering with natural highlights
They danced, they drank, they feasted, they laughed,
they loved. Some couples quite odd in their match.
The Bride of Frankenstein made off with an Elf.
As sunrise drew close they all sang along
with the banshees. Sweet lullabies, the piper played,
to send fiends back from where they came, to dream.