Poem

Here is one!

The zombies are most anxious about the graveyard
Before midnight arises, for they make the
Most petrifying of wails and screams.
Sounding as if they are being boiled alive
In their own ghastliness, of their slimy and
Putrid green skin.

They dare not gander about the graveyard
Before the dead of night arises, for they
Will be engulfed by the sunlight which
Sweeps across the grave stones,
Standing like forgotten and mysterious
Relics.

They are tremendously afraid of the sunlight,
For it completely obliterates them; causing their skins
To melt ferociously under
The searing heat of the sun,
And their bows to spew out disgusting
And putrid mucus.

When the crow squawks upon the Oak
Tree in the grave yard, the Zombies
Are wise to know that the dead of night
Has come to being.

They ferociously slash their coffins
To pieces and begin to come forth from their graves.
The shadows of the zombies spill vengeance and evil
Upon the grave yard, as they come forth from
Their graves.