Sweet Tooth Happiness

helado

Ice

cold to

the little tooth,

Sweet to the satisfaction,

A sensational happy moment,

Towering summit like Rocky Mountain high

Shrinking it down, that is the evening goal,

Watch out for whipped avalanche,

Skiing down the mountainside,

With one final maraschino,

Saved til last spoonful,

Plump and savory,

A stem is the

Fractional

Remain


In Response to the Daily Post photo prompt: Treat

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Halloween Riot

 photo halloweenpumpkin_zpsdwim28e4.jpg
My Donald Trump pumpkin carving, which took about an hour and a half to make

Halloween was a cheerful all nighter,
The haunted house and the chainsaw choir
The kids walked up to my door,
Candy I had no more,
So they proceeded to set my house on fire!

Of course that last line didn’t happen, but it was another Midwest Halloween for me that was more quiet and somber than in previous years, with both of my sisters being away and the good ole days of trick or treating getting further and further in the mirror – I didn’t even dress up this year. The walk through the park’s haunted house was better than I expected, was really spooky and believable. A white faced Michael Myers impersonator really did a good job of creeping me out after I had a moment’s stare at him, following behind me in the maze and then meeting me at the end where a man revving a real chainsaw (or was it just a sound effect?) had me worried that I quickly got out of there. The rain poured down tonight, leaving a really damp and depressing All Saint’s Eve, not prime weather for our little costumed heroes that it was all over by 8:00. I didn’t run out of candy, that’s for sure, and there weren’t any riots.


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Trick or Trick.”

Let’s imagine it’s Halloween, and you just ran out of candy. If the neighborhood kids (or anyone else, really) were to truly scare you, what trick would they have to subject you to?

Repeating the Halloween prompt from last year? Fine, I’ll take it. My first response was a revenge poem as well.

A Lobster’s Life For Me

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I’m a lobster trapped in a box
My life with the sea has been lost
The humans look at me all day
Oogling and googling as they walk away
My brothers and sisters, they’ll be dinner as well
The peaceful time in the sea, now condemned to this hell
They’ll throw me in the steaming pot
My rock hard shell will begin to be shot
Steaming and screaming
No more time for dreaming
Blue to red
The moment I dread
Once I leave this prison
Last crustacean sun has risen
If I could teleport to another place
It would be on the side of a coral face
Instead of being packed in a truck
On to Red Lobster, the irony, just my luck
This has to be a dream and I must still be at home
Instead of another rock lobster that gets cooked to the bone
But a human took a picture of us, huddled into a spot
Making this not so much a dream but a nightmare’s blot


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “If You Leave.”

Noche de los Fantasmas

Day 303 - Fiery Spider

Pumpkins are synonymous with the season of black cats, witches, goblins, cider, corn mazes, and low budget horror flicks that come out on home video a short time after hitting theaters. Here is a pumpkin carving of a typical eight legged “spade backed” spider that I carefully created last year (with the aid of a stencil). I placed two small candles inside the pumpkin and then photographed the carved gourd outside at night, capturing the fiery glow. The edge of the pumpkin is barely visible, preserving the eeriness of the picture. It’s not my best effort and I’ll likely try this again this year, choosing a different, more elaborate design, and planning my shot a little differently.

As spirits roam the neighborhoods at night,
Let loose upon the Earth till it be light…
~Nicholas Gordon, poemsforfree.com

Halloween is just around the corner again, which I can’t believe and always am fascinated about. It’s the psuedo-spookiness, much of it forced, we incorporate on this superstitious night that makes me appreciate this time of year. Quite a fun, but cheesy time that originated from ancient religious practices. I loved the days of late-night candy scavenging as a kid, dressed in a different costume every year, going door to door and chanting the cliche question of two options and eagerly holding out my bag or bucket to be filled with the kind of candy that would make a dentist turn white. I believe the only time I’ve gotten “tricked” was when I was reaching into the candy bucket of a still and silent scary clown – which didn’t look real – and he suddenly snapped back at me, “Don’t touch my candy!”, scaring me half to death. Halloween never got more real than that.


In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Careful.”

(Extra)ordinary

Extraordinary as one word means “beyond what is ordinary or normal”. It describes something that is unusual, not found in everyday life, or what you would expect. An extraordinary thing in nature is a small seedling eventually growing into a giant redwood over thousands of years – and then being chopped down and processed into the paper that contains the manuscript for an Oscar winning film. An extraordinary thing is talking about your favorite college football team beating their hated rival with about five seconds to go and with the lead, seeing this as a monumental upset, when all of a sudden the punter fumbles the ball and the other team picks it up and takes it in for a score. An extraordinary thing is an unknown singer going on a singing competition show, auditioning and making it through, surviving all the rounds, winning the whole thing, and launching a star studded career that is still going strong – all because he or she walked through a door one bright day.

Day 285 - Rind Asphalt

In terms of something being extra or more ordinary and uninspiring, this watermelon rind that I found lying in the road could not be any less mundane or unassuming. It was obviously thrown to the ground after someone was finished eating the juicy red “meat” while taking a leisurely stroll. It must have been interesting enough for me to snap a photo of it though, but it is worthless garbage that is long gone now and will never be anything special. Was once an extraordinary whole watermelon, now reduced to a single rind. I loved the simplicity and symbolism of this image so much that I had to use it today. True story.


In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “(Extra)ordinary.”

Concrete Snowman

snowmanpoetry

This was a lot harder to create than you may think. I may have stretched a few lines near the end to fulfill the ideal image of a snowman.

Writing 201: Day 9 – Cold, Concrete Poetry, Anaphora/epistrophe

Changes In the Air

A sign of changes in the trees. Moving toward Autumn.

change5
Going from this
change3
To this

Death is natural…rebirth is imminentchange2
The leaves…stripping off for us
change1


In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Change.”