Oddments

In search of story


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October 31.20: Coping

All Hallows’ Eve,

and my muse has gone astray.

When last seen, a bluebird,

most likely bat today.

I’ve written and deleted

a tome or two of late;

nothing’s any good —

I’ve just an addled pate.

Where are those perfect words

that say just what I mean?

Have they been scared away

by this looming Halloween?

I think it’s much more likely

my muse is somewhere stuck

among the fangs and broomsticks

of politics run amuck.

 

Thanks to photographer D.J. Berg,

and a salute to her complimentary Halloween bar.

 


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Connections: October 31.17

My daughter-in-law, dear reader,

in her finest witch’s chic

 flexes imagination muscle

a certified Halloween geek.

Eye of toad and tail of newt

bedeck the living room

it’s the masque of Hallowed Eve

from tip of toe to broom.

Many the middle-aged ghouls

(you mustn’t be naive)

who don’t outgrow the Snickers

or love of make-believe.

I salute them and their spirit

their hatted, robed hilarity

infusing real life

with a little jocularity.

 

 

Special Halloween thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives for the header photo today —

and Happy Halloween, dear reader!

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Connections: October 31

2014-10 - 02 - Lit jack-o-lanternYou know these guys?

Sure you do!

They’re the comic team

watching you.

One is Conscience, the other, Time.

You can’t escape their mocking mime.

Close the window, pull the drape,

but they’re still there to grin and gape.

Morning, noon, and in the night,

they

relentless

ply their blight.

So what to do? How live ever after?

How endure their sadistic laughter?

How return their jibes with jeers?

Reach in the bowl for a Three Musketeers.

More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives curator, shown in the reflection, staring down the ghouls.

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