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Editing - polished draft

The Good Old Bad Days... October Contest

Halloween and monsters
I've loved them all my life
Throughout my seven decades
Ask my friends and ask my wife

I'd dress up for the evening
Give out candy to the ghouls
The super-heroes dressed in tights
Villains and Joker-fools

I'd make up myself real scary
Like a vampire or a fiend
Lots of blood and gore
Make the little kiddies scream

It used to give me pleasure
To see the children cry
Then shower them with goodies
Wipe the teardrops from their eyes

May In April

Lightning flashes across rattled panes, Indigo films on clover leaves,
Purple rain.
Chicks retreat to higher grounds, Metal birds cling onto hangars. Downtown,
Whispering palms bath in the silver moon's luminous light,
Orion hangs like a chandelier in its stead on a starry sky,
Barefooted generators run into the night,
Words find their feet, spring up and fly, Feelings lit up a page like fire-flies; They are bright enough to make hearts glow,
I throw a pebble down the stream's shallow end for rivers run deep.

Unit of Measure

I’ve heard the human soul
weighs 21 grams or so
Not so in my experience!

All those I miss the most
weigh much heavier on me

My mind sees their souls
as impossible to lift some days,
because of the burden of their absence

Heavy lifting - as if 21 grams
were as I imagine it might weigh
in the dark heart of a crushing black hole

I AM - experimental poetry series (II)


an annex
a shaft
a shank
a shack
a hoard
a pen
a pencil
some pages
some written pages from past
a blast
a field lit with pigeon holes
a beautiful morning
morning in June
an act of defiance
a planet
a tide
a wave
the waves
the waves that are crashing
the waves that are breaking

inside your soul.

The Witch's Teapot (Hallowe'en Contest)

Spider legs sprout and canter forth
With glorious joy and dark purpose.
Pottery tips and clackety-clicks;
A dance on the dusty wood surface.

Then a pause and a shout,
In celebration no doubt,
"Oh happy, happy day!"

Such relief it expects,
"We are going to have guests!"
Tonight, a most wicked soiree.

It's been far too long
Since our Mistress did feed.
Months! No a year, yes indeed!


Strong we stand against the battering blows
I am prepared for devastation
Unwavering as we watch the hateful glow
This life was not my decision
We all step together and watch the blood flow
I feel no hesitation
As I am joined by brothers and sisters that I know
I'm amongst my division


Do you ever feel like rain?
Unable to stick to anything
Instead, you make everything around you seem gloomy wherever you go

Sometimes I feel like rain…
I cannot seem to stick to anything
Unlike snow
Every time I try to
I slip and fall onto the muddy wet ground
When the sun comes out
It tries to lift me up
I fall again
I cannot seem to do anything to change it

your onions are making me cry

The minced beef reminds me of how I want to smash your head.

Inside you, there's no brain
and nothing left to your soul,

with vinyl gloves, I plaster

the feelings.
I hide 'em all

in layers of beef

and just to remember
the garlic does not always give a better taste,

it can also ruin the whole recipe.

Tremendous disasters come due to wrong quantities
-the qualities are already lost.

Don't look at the knives.
They are haemorrhaging in the bags.
They are thirsty for blood.


My Father did not plant fruit trees
or a garden with any sort of vegetable,
like a tomato plant, or peppers.

It was I that planted, harvested all of that.

His example did not lodge with me
never having flown down from the sky
wrapped in a fighter plane

machine guns blazing towards a ground confined enemy
they there, trembling in fear, hiding from
his bullets and bombs thrown while in God’s bubble.

I loved him so, yet my path differed


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