The roundest, orangest, nicest pumpkin I find
In a farmer's field ten miles from town.
Uncarved and free from ghoul's design
with unsaid prayers, I set my pumpkin down.
I set it down in grass in front of a stone.
A granite stone turned in perfect square.
Light's changing now to a dimmer tone.
My tears fall from my empty eyes that stare.
They stare as time passes quickly before my eyes.
The rotting fruit has caved on all four sides.
Hence, heraldic symbol dies
To become slime above where love resides.
Globe spatters, sending forth white pearly seeds
with matted threads. Could this be human brain?
Lunging forth, I trip on rocks and weeds.
My legs move, but I can make no gain.
I look to see what caused my foot to trip.
I see a granite stone much like the same
as my Love's, it ends with letters RIP.
and, 'bove is' -Wife of- and - Oh No - my name.
Categories:
orangest, death, halloween, horror,
Form: Rhyme
Trixie, who loves orange, is today clog-dancing.
Her ready exhibitions are becoming so frequent many
poets would be embarrassed
My poems are super confident, so I go along with my enthusisatic minion.
Trixie is thrilled with our stuff.
All prissy delightful, not wanting to edit anything.
Please let us not use "I and me, again," I beg her.
So overdone I tell her.
She laughs and stomps on my finger that was heading for the delete button.
Our top five themes are dragons, pirates, orange, Trixie and me.
A bit boring, I tell her. Let's try some new material.
Trixie gets angry and gets out her battle axes.
She leaves my dendrite alley in despicable shape, hanging in pieces.
She saturates the walls of my imagination with
Sexy, sassy, orange, and yellow. Sexy! Come on! I yell. She howls happiness.
I watch in fascination as she grabs the pen and does her damage.
The bossiest orangest most polka dotted craziest poetic muse ever.
I count on her energetic bossy attitude almost daily.
Categories:
orangest, muse, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Mr. Moon
One night’s sky of midnight blue,
Enfolded a moon of the orangest hue.
So huge was this moon, it lie on the trees,
And I hid in the house in a frightened freeze.
Crept I back outside for a peek,
That man in the moon was not any freak,
He smiled at me with a toothless grin, and
He took my fears along with him.
I stood as baby clouds floated by,
As he seem to shrink in that midnight blue sky,
Through the window at daylight he was only a pearl,
And I miss him so, this sad little girl.
Categories:
orangest, growing up, moon,
Form: Light Verse