Here is the verse I wrote…
for voxpoetica. Since this IS Halloween Eve, I thought I would also post it here. Thanks again Annmarie for prodding me to do this.
POEm
The evening crept into my room
Beneath the fullness of the moon
The hour struck just ten that night
As I wrote by candlelight
I’d heard it said once long ago
Its flame invoked the soul of Poe
You see it was my secret dream
To outdo Poe and write a scream
Something wicked to delight
A story of horrific fright
As I tapped the keys to tell my tale
My laptop announced a new e-mail
I looked at who the note was from
Apparently it was from “no one”!
Out loud I said “this cannot be
Someone must be spamming me”
I poised my hand and pushed delete
An action I would soon repeat
Within no time I got some more
First twenty-nine, then forty-four
Finally the spamming ceased
My frenzied fingers felt released
Just as I sat back and sighed
My calm repose was soon denied
The room became as cold as ice
I saw my breath and shivered twice
My laptop screen became bright blue
A truly terrorizing hue
I couldn’t move or close my mouth
My stomach churned, my guts went south
When suddenly a face appeared
My laptop screen a frame of fear
At first it looked an eerie glow
Then became the face of Poe!
You can imagine my surprise to see
The illustrious Poe gazing back at me
Within no time his mouth did speak
His face was gaunt and his eyes were bleak
“I plead, don’t tell me, nevermore,
For you are still my sweet Lenore
Reborn as one called Annmarie
Your new name matters not to me!”
I felt so shocked, my lips were dry
But I could not accept this blatant lie
“I am not your sweet Lenore!
You don’t belong here anymore”
Poe’s face turned grim at this remark
His eyes were flashing bits of spark
I blinked and he appeared to me
Beside my chair and touching me
I felt a chill go up my spine
As Poet let out a little whine
“Oh sweet Lenore, you are aware
I’ve come for you, do not despair”
At this I pulled myself together
And left the chair where I’d been tethered
My courage came to me at last
I reached the door in one mad dash
I took the steps three at a time
Until I reached the yard outside
I ran up the street then down the lane
My legs grew tired, I looked insane
“I must be free by now,” I said
“From Edgar Poe, the living dead”
But when I looked behind me then
Old Poe was just around the bend
Above the ground his spectre flew
And as he gained on me it grew
Above the ground his body soared
Crying out for sweet Lenore
Until his countenance did change
Into a Raven large and strange
Before I could begin to scream
Dear Poe became a scary dream
I sat up straight in bed in fright
And turned on every single light
So real was the dream of Poe
It took some time to let it go
Just in case, I checked my mail
Feeling rather weak and pale
But as all was just as it should be
To see no ghosts I was relieved
I shut the lid and went to bed
Braved the dark and shed my dread
The next day I would write this down
And steal Poe’s poetic crown
Just as I was feeling smug
I felt the blanket being tugged
When I sat up to wrest it free
Edgar Poe stared back at me!
On Time
A well placed piercing of my heart
Beguiled me enough to let you go
I didn’t really want to slink away
While you slept yourself into oblivion
Don’t fall in love with your bed you told me
Fall in love with nothing I said
An empty soul collision
Brought on by high expectation
We never did enough truth calculus
To prepare for the division
The timing never was considered
As that monster clocked chimed the hour of our demise
Previous Post
Flame
An orange light on a white wall
Heralds the arrival of death
In a dark yard
The screams from terror filled throats
Lay down the panic law
Inside a little girl’s soul
Today he was just a boy
Eleven and full of breath
A life just at the beginning
His Mom said no to his request
To sleep outside with friends
In a tent in the neighbour’s yard
On and on he wore her down
Pestered into a puddle
His finally relenting mother
Jolly laughter on firecracker night
Sparklers and giggles
By the firelight
Memories are born swiftly
A labour hastened by fate
When a tent catches fire
Tonight he is a human torch
Underneath a crumpled canvass dome
Collapsed in an exhausted smoking heap
Tomorrow they will say he has no eyelids
And that he named the author of his death
Before silently slipping away from the pain
Thirty plus years later
For me he will remain
Eleven and losing his breath in a flame
Photos I Took In August
It's just cute. A couple of fairies from the Peter Pan Sculpture in the park
I'm very proud of this one. I think I captured 'work' here.
Yes it's a feather. Yes it's on the water. Yes, somewhere there is a cold duck
Self explanatory. I took it because if I were a picnic table, I would be this one. Red among the green and solitarily complete. Like Garbo.
I'm in love...with an ant. Specifically this ant. He is my photographic muse and I take no pictures without summoning his asistance.
An Excerpt From Something I’ve Been Writing Off And On…
Padding along the spongy earth, lichen drooping from the trees like your own sad eyes. These same eyes that dart along the path up ahead as it winds it’s way through the bush, an unreal forest populated by the monsters from your worst nightmare. Of course now that you are in it, an inner peripheral blindness keeps you focused on the pin point of pain you can experience and survive. Your feet are trained to be certain and the sucking mud is no match for the aggression in your footfalls. You count them, each step, the way you count the days, marking lost time with lines on the wall of your prison. You feel the mud slap up your back, an insult from the brooding cruel earth that has begun to hate you as much as you hate it. Stopping for the cramp, a sharp index finger sized ache that has reminded you that you are as much a hostage of your own pain as you are of the whims of a madman. Tomorrow you will run again. This time further.
Nuggets
Redemption is the sliver of a chance someone offers you. It’s always free and looks exactly like an olive branch
Courage is insanity altered by love and truth
Money is a tool, used by tools to make tools to control people who don’t like tools
Show me an angry driver and I’ll show you the owner of a Ford truck
If you take one mindless act and combine it with a good dose of reality, you will then have consequences
Confucius said a lot but from what I hear, he didn’t do much about it beyond posturing
Wisdom is bullshit with an ideology
When someone says they have the answer to the meaning of life, what they are really saying is that they are stupid
No one knows why we are here, but I have inkling it has something to do with fucking up over and over again
Famous people are just like you and I. Okay, they’re not. But they used to be. So I’m kinda right. 
Once in a while you see someone who is exactly like a train wreck, complete with mangled body fascination. You keep looking, and wonder, do I look like that to someone else? Yeah, we’re all somebody else’s train wreck
When a dog looks at you he is saying “I’m your best pal and I idolize you.”
When a cat looks at you he is saying “You’re my best pal and you idolize me.”
No two ways about it, there are three ways to look at every situation: The right way, the wrong way and the way that works for everyone
Facts about cigarette butts found in the gutter:
Long butts always belong to hookers who can never finish a cigarette for obvious reasons and they are usually menthol
Short butts belong to drunks and burn away before being stubbed out due to…well…being drunk and forgetting it’s existence on the end of their fingers
Hollowed out butts belong to junkies who are so strung out they would smoke their fingers if they could
I’m On…
VOXPOETICA with a little POEm for All Hallows Eve. :) Thanks Annmarie for suggesting I do this. Somehow, writing about the supernatural has taken me out of my dark place. HUGS
