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Beasley
Senior Member
since 2003-11-28
Posts 682
Cheboygan,MI USA

0 posted 2008-04-29 12:32 PM



They danced; they sang.
Just moments before, he had been in eutopia.
Monsters growled and bellowed,
Witches cackled and ghosts rose amid steamy vapors.
Cats arched their backs and bats flew in the shadows above.
Hardened cons watched intently as they leaned
Against the walls for support.
Eerie chants drove skeletons into a vexatious rattle-
Their bones shimmering in the chill and haunting night.
The witches! Were their faces always green?!
And then-quiet. One lonely spider stands in the spotlight.
Confusion spills over his tiny insect face.
He tries to spin his threads, his diamond threads.
Would those magical threads capture the moment?
Silence.
The organ was still.
No bony fingers pounded down
And sent the bizarre notes up into the atmosphere.
No lightning. No howling in the background.
The show was over; he was alone.
The ghoulish organ player and his toothless grin-gone.
But then a poet entered.
She read.
She redeemed the scene.
She set up her word-pencils and sketched a mental picture.
She drew until the spider danced again,
The hardened cons rose from their swoon,
The witches swirled in spells,
While skeletons wiggled and jiggled like Jell-o.
And she sighed as she said:

SAY IT WITH A SIGH
With gnarled and twisted fingers
Like a cold and barren tree.
He beat upon the keyboard
As he’d shift a bony knee.

The organ music sounded
Like the prelude of a chant.
It caused night a chill and haunting
And a daylight sun to slant.

It summoned all the bats and cats
And monsters in between.
It put the witches in a trance
And turned their faces green.

It brought out all the midnight spooks.
OH! How they carried on!
It terrified the ladies fair,
And scared a hardened con.

Now this ghoulish organ player,
A toothless grin affair,
Has up and gone and left us,
And the spider knows not where

The spotlight came back on.
The little spider looked lonely again,
But the poet was no more.
The spotlight follows the little spider
As he throws his knapsack over his shoulder
And walks forlornly down the dark road
Wondering if the poet will still be allowed
To post here.


© Copyright 2008 Barbara Gedman - All Rights Reserved
Marge Tindal
Deputy Moderator 5 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384
Florida's Foreverly Shores
1 posted 2008-04-29 12:48 PM


Barb~
You ALWAYS come up with a doozy of a write~

For reasons known only to this self-acclaimed weird poetess -

'Wondering if the poet will still be allowed
To post here.'


- this line totally cracked me up~


Love reading you and will love even more
MEETING you next month !!!
Look out Georgia ... here we come !!!

*Huglets*
~*Marge*~

~*The sound of a kiss is not as strong as that of a cannon, but it's echo endures much longer*~
Email -             noles1@totcon.com

Trillium
Deputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Patricius
since 2001-03-09
Posts 12098
Idaho, USA
2 posted 2008-04-29 10:20 PM


Dear Barb:

That poet will always be welcome to post here or anywhere else!

Love
Betty Lou

Betty Lou Hebert

Joyce Johnson
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Rara Avis
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912
Washington State
3 posted 2008-04-30 01:30 AM


Bring on your spider, your witch and your haunt.
You're allowed to post just as much as you want.  

You're always a surprise.  Joyce

Beasley
Senior Member
since 2003-11-28
Posts 682
Cheboygan,MI USA
4 posted 2008-04-30 05:24 AM


Only my poetic family could love all of my warts!
xox
Barb

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