Wordless Wednesday (Halloween edition)
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Author Archives: Maggie C
A Sketchy Story
Once upon a stormy night,
it was a dark and dreary time.
Did you hear the one about…
You’re not going to believe this rhyme.
It all begins on Halloween,
this scary tale I’ve yet to weave.
I do not know the ending yet;
it took so long, the start to leave.
I’m sure there’re bats and witch’s brew,
lightning crackling in the sky,
the mournful howls of shrouded souls,
an icy breeze when ghosts glide by.
Something frightening will occur,
a horrid nightmare come to life.
We must escape impending doom.
A curse? a ghoul? a bloodied knife?
Though terror strikes, Good will prevail.
Ghosts disappear with dawn’s first light.
We’ll be forewarned of danger still
in shadows deep on stormy nights.
And so it ends, as all tales do.
The rest is history as they say.
We all live happily ever more.
We live to fight another day.
The details of this scary tale —
as sketchy as they seem to be —
are yours to conjure in your mind
and fill the blanks in as you please.
If any moral lies herein,
I leave that point for you to hone.
The yarns I spin unravel fast.
Collect the threads and weave your own.
Old but New
I don’t know when the original hardwood flooring was covered with carpet. Times change. Tastes change. A beautiful, gleaming oak floor in the mid-fifties came – over time – to be seen as an outdated, cold, hard to maintain surface. Carpets – with so many shades and textures to choose from, so warm to the feet on cold mornings, so… modern! – were slapped down right over the top of the oak floors. Adding insult to injury, no one even bothered to use drop cloths when they spray-textured and painted the walls before laying the carpet.
Times change. Tastes change. When I discovered the oak floor beneath the tacky, cheap, outdated carpet, I was delighted! Scratches, minor water stains, tack and staple holes give it charm and character to my eye. I will not revive it to its pristine 1955 condition. I will clean it up and let it blend in with the industrial chic vibe of other rooms in the house.
Times change. Tastes change. A new homeowner will come along some day. They won’t see the hardwood floors as the treasure that I do. They’ll likely wonder why I exposed the cold, outdated eyesore of distressed wood flooring. They’ll cover it with god-only-knows what. Hopefully, as the transition from trend to trend and back again continues, the stalwart wood will at least be given the courtesy of a drop cloth. Is that too much to ask?
autumn turns to fall
transitioning to itself
changed yet unchanging
The Visit
“You’re early!” she complains.
“Better early than late, right?” I smile.
“Better early than never, I suppose.”
I’m not so sure.
Too late for never, though.
“I’ll go,” I say.
She scowls. “And come back when?”
Never say never, I’m reminded.
“Soon,” I lie.
Wordless Wednesday 9.26.18
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National Voter Registration Day
Midterm elections are coming up on November 6th in the US. Are you registered to vote? You can register HERE. It’s super easy and super important. Be heard, make a difference.
Vote like your life depended on it. Someone’s life truly does.
“Too many people struggled, suffered, and died to make it possible for every American to exercise their right to vote.” ~ John Lewis
“We must vote for hope, vote for life, vote for a brighter future for all of our loved ones.” ~ Ed Markey
“Individual rights are not subject to a public vote; a majority has no right to vote away the rights of a minority; the political function of rights is precisely to protect minorities from oppression by majorities (and the smallest minority on earth is the individual).” ~ Ayn Rand
Wordless Wednesday 9.19.18
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morning stirs
The clock shows six a.m. Maybe. My eyes don’t quite focus first thing in the morning. My dog Chules has awakened me with his gentle “woof” from halfway down the hall. I don’t know how he expects me to hear such soft greetings, but I do hear them, almost every time. I rise and make my way down the hall to the front door where Chules now waits. “What kind of day do you suppose it is today?” I ask. Chules answers as usual with a generous tail wag and an expectant smile. He doesn’t prejudge days. He’s very Zen about that kind of thing.
I prop the door open with my Himalayan salt crystal. The lamp inside broke some time ago, but it’s quite heavy and makes a perfect door stop, so there it sits. Chules steps out to the porch and plops down on the cool cement. The lyrics from a Dan Fogelberg song enter my head.
Yes it’s going to be a day // There is really no way to say no // To the morning.
Chules’ eyes meet mine. Does he hear the song, too? In my imagination, I hear us both saying, “Yes.” A most hearty yes to the morning.
morning stirs awake
day unfolds to greet the sun
petals of summer
Rodent Robbers
Snap! smacks the mouse trap,
as the spring is spryly sprung.
The trap slaps shut with a jolt abrupt.
Now the deadly deed is done.
Wheeze! breathes the brave mouse,
as she gasps to grasp some air.
That’s how it goes when the cheese she chose
is a ploy plied to ensnare.
Voilà! exclaims the vainglorious vole.
“You disdained and disbelieved
that a twig tip-tapped could trip the trap.
Such a clean scheme I conceived.”
Shush! shouts the shaking mouse.
“It was I who death defied.
Put a plug in your pompous prattling
while we partake of our purloined prize.”
Let Sleepy Towns Lie
The sands of time had ground to dust.
The wheels of justice left the bus.
My day in court long overdue,
due process – it seemed – had stood me up.
This sleepy town gave me arrest
for stealing nest eggs off their nests.
When left to choose ‘twixt right and wrong,
I wrongly chose, then quickly left.
Blind justice sniffed me out that day,
threw me in jail; the key, away.
Each year, society’s ransom grew.
How long until this debt was paid?
One night I knew just what to do.
I poison-penned an IOU,
slipped through the cracks and stole away,
and vowed my life of crime was through.
I bailed from jail, but I’m still not free.
I watch my back, it watches me.
I’ll no more practice to deceive, ‘cuz
from ‘neath her blindfold, justice sees.
dVerse Poetics: Twisted Adages. “For this week’s Poetics, we will start with an adage, or several adages, but we won’t stop there. I am asking you to craft your poetry around an adage or two that you must change in some significant way.”
I may have gotten a bit carried away with my wordplay, but you know, when it rhymes, it pours.
I wrote a previous post that fits the bill for this challenge as well. You may find it here.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 