A glint of sunlight from its prismed face
Catches the eye of the weary beholder,
For years occupying a hallowed space
The old tower clock still chimes bolder,
Stolid guardian marking time and place
As hours pass slowly in the marketplace.
It clearly tolls and lonely, too, at midnight
When townfolks are at home sound asleep,
Year after year its appointed hour’s respite
A time to live, a time to die, tolling complete
Seeming to know the proper tonality
When pealing for one's funereal finality.
Written September 20, 2022
The Token Hunch-Back
By Elton Camp
Most businesses feel they must have a few token blacks
So it’s reasonable to have equity for all the hunch-backs
Mad scientists require a slavish assistant to do their will
Only one dressed in black and called Igor can fill the bill
And to fully please his master, Igor always does so fine
It can be Count Dracula or maybe Professor Frankenstein
The castle where the duo do their dirty work’s on a hill
Whenever the villagers living below see it, it gives a chill
When enough of the evil master the townfolks finally get,
They never invade the castle until the sun has nearly set
Igor will then always do all he can his master to defend
But the outraged villagers will always triumph in the end
I know, politically correct a poem like this certainly is not
Since it make hunch-backs feel reviled and put on the spot
The Americans With Disabilities Act applies in the USA
However, pictures like these are all set a half a world away
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