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Category Archives: poetry

Beyond Lame

It is a rare day when I can’t even seem to write a post about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today. Then again, it is Lame Post Friday. How lame is it to not even be able to write a lame post?

In my defense… oh, never mind my defense. It’s just more kvetching about my ill health. What in the world is the matter with me anyways? All I do is complain. Then again, the more you complain, the longer God lets you live, according to an older sister of mine.

That is pretty much what I wrote at work. Then I worked on my novel, so at to ease my guilt, and wrote a letter, because I like to write a letter. My usual method while at work is to think about my blog post while working then write it on a break. I had other things to think about today. I’m going wine tasting with the girls tomorrow. That is, the girls in my family. I could go into some half-baked philosophy about how hanging out with your family is both more and less pressure than hanging out with friends, but quite frankly, I’m afraid some of my family might read this. Probably they won’t, but you never know.

In the meantime, my headache is back, so to avoid more tiresome kvetching, I will end this post. Just barely over 200 words. I say it’ll do.

A Halloween Poem

Today’s post is a poem I wrote which may very well have happened in the Mohawk Valley.

The Purple Broom

The witch flew on the purple broom
High above the trees.
She like to loop, she like to zoom,
Wherever she might please.

As she flew, she chanced to meet
A monster with one eye.
He tried to kick her with his feet,
But Witchy flew too high.

And then she met a Frankenstein
Walking through the wood.
Frankie said, “I’m feeling fine,
And hope that you are good.”

The witch flew on, it was such fun.
And soon she met a zombie.
He was quite the well-dressed one
In Fitch and Ambercrombie.

And on she flew into the night.
She saw a werewolf prowling.
The witch said, “Boo!” Try as she might,
She could not get him howling.

A skeleton waved from the street.
His fingers were all bloody.
“Come down!” he said. “I’d like to meet!
And I could be your buddy!”

A wizard with a cauldron black
Was stirring up his potion.
“I need a broom! Come back!” he said.
But Witchy stayed in motion.

Past ghosts and ghouls and everyone,
And as the night drew on,
The purple broom was fast and fun,
And so the witch flew on.