Poetry

Halloween Flashback- Late For Halloween

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  • A little treat from 2020

Photo by Thirdman on Pexels.com

I wasn’t ready for Halloween

I didn’t have a costume to wear

My pumpkin didn’t have a face

my decorations were still in their  boxes

upstairs.

 

I didn’t know what to do

I wasn’t ready to make merry that night

What would I do when the witches,

monsters  and ghouls

knocked on my door at twilight?

Hand them some candy, cupcakes or snacks

shaped like coffins, body parts and fangs

or better yet I suppose I could-

give them the real things instead.

My Sweet Visitor

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RDP Monday: CARAMEL

Dragan Bibin “Deimos”

The shadow at the bottom of the stairs

the silence that answers when you call out  ‘who is there’

the kiss that is delivered with the same firm lips, always placed in the same exact

spot on mouths caught unaware

you smell like burnt sugar

and apples rotting in a fruit bowl visited by flies.

 

I know your face

I know your name

I don’t know what color your eyes are

why doesn’t it matter, I sometimes wonder

that I don’t know what your are

or why I don’t seem to care.

Little Clown

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RDP Tuesday: CHILDREN

Little Clowns on Seesaw
Candido Portinari

Little clown goes up and down

give me this, no you take that

you hurt me, but I won’t hurt you back

Little clown goes up and down.

 

Little clown goes up and down

I’m always right, I’m never wrong

do what I say, do what you want

Little Clown goes up and down.

 

Little clown

wants her toys to herself

give her yours or else she’ll pout

it never ends, it will never stop

Little clown goes up and down.

 

It Sounds Kooky, I Know

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RDP Friday: KOOKY

Day (Le Jour), from the series, Dreams (Songes), plate VI
Odilon Redon1891

 

My foundation is cracked

my joints are failing

the windows to my soul are growing weak and dim

sometimes when people look at me, they draw back and walk around me

some of them make the sign of the cross, or whisper to their God to help them move

faster along their way.

 

Do you know that they are smart and sensible?

I’m a living, breathing haunted house

who takes the train to work everyday

and faithfully walks her dog, even in the rain and the snow

because he loves it.

Umberto Boccioni, Dynamism of a Woman’s Head