Just like a ghost, you’ve been a-hauntin’ my dreams,
So I’ll propose on Halloween.
Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little girl like you.
When witches go riding,
and black cats are seen,
the moon laughs and whispers,
‘tis near Halloween.
“Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.”
― William Shakespeare
If you are really smart you will move next door to the kind of neighbors who live beside us. They do enough decorating for the entire block.
I especially like the skeletons climbing on the chimney and this guy hanging in the car port. These pictures were taken on a dull day and don’t do the whole thing justice, so you’ll just have to imagine eerie things all lit up in the dark surrounded by scary sounds. Mostly on Halloween night we just hear a bunch of screaming.
This is my house. As you can see, I’ve gone with a slightly less cluttered look to celebrate the season. I hung something on my door. With a push-pin I think it was. Not exactly labour intensive, anyway. Here’s a close up in case you can’t find it.
I also decorated a shelf inside above my stove by changing three plates with chefs on them to these three. The fisherman is there year round, along with the wooden egg that Kenzie decorated with goop when she was three. Every house needs a goop covered egg which could one day become a serious art form or a family heirloom or both.
And that’s it. Halloween decorating made easy. Good luck finding a neighbor like mine. And a boogie man who will stay home to give out treats if you have to work that night. Hey, it’s only fair, since I’m the one who did the decorating, right?
If you’re too busy to laugh, you’re too busy. Personally I can’t remember the last time someone accused me of being too busy. Or of never laughing. Here’s some funny stuff (and shit) gleaned from Facebook by me, while being extremely not busy. Don’t say these bad words out loud. In your head, it’s perfectly okay.
Yesterday we had a municipal election here to vote for our mayor, councillors and Public and Catholic school board trustees. On the weekend I did what any not very politically minded person like me would do, and asked my 12-year-old granddaughter for voting advice.
I told her I thought Linda Osinchuk had been doing a good job being our present mayor. She’s a very nice person and one of our contact lens patients where I work. The lady running against her, Roxanne Carr, is also a very nice person who happens to live right across the street from me. She has been a county councillor for 5 or six years. And I still hadn’t made up my mind which one I would vote for. Notice how I didn’t go on about their respective political policies, as if that has nothing at all to do with anything. My dad used to say that the policies were secondary to the person’s character. He would always ‘vote for the man’ (there were never many women running for things then) because what party they happened to be part of was the less important consideration. I suppose I am my father’s daughter in more ways than I know.
It’s quite wonderful, when you think about it, that we have a choice, and that no matter which way it all turns out we can be happy with (or at least not devastated by) the results. Another happy thing about our part of the election is how many women there were to vote for in every category. I’m all for more women in politics.
Kenzie thought about it for a minute, and then decided it would be nice if we gave Roxanne a chance. She is all about being fair.
It was a close result but the people have spoken and we are going to give Roxanne a chance. Good call, Kenz. I’m wondering, now that I live on the same humble little street as the new mayor, if our snow will be cleared with greater regularity this winter. I mean it would look bad if the mayor got snowed in, right?
Anyway, here’s to you Linda for all your hard work, and here’s to you Roxanne, for all the hard work you have yet to do. And here’s to Kenzie for keeping it fair.
“She decided to free herself, dance into the wind, create a new language. And birds fluttered around her, writing “yes” in the sky.” (Monique Duval)
“There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.”
A shopping list (noun) is a list of items needed to be purchased by a shopper, a grocery list is the most popular type of shopping list– including items that need to be procured on the next visit to the grocery store.
Kintsukuroi is a Japanese noun meaning “to repair with gold”; the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.
Hard to believe the queen of lists missed the shopping list prompt for the promptless. It certainly wasn’t for lack of lists floating around in my life. Just maybe it was all those other things floating around with them that I’m too lazy to grab hold of and run with.
So, two prompts in one – Voila! – a list-y poem about breaks. No, I can’t explain how I came up with that exactly. But that’s the beauty of poetry – the inspiration for it rarely makes sense. And I’m going with the part of the prompt that said to make up my own.
I have plagiarized and hopefully improved upon my own work from a previous poem. I won’t link to it, because it sucked even worse than this one. But I’m having fun! And that’s all that really matters, right? Don’t be critical, you could break my heart.
Things That Break
When dawn breaks,
Morning has broken.
Night falls, but it never breaks.
Give a guy a break and break it to him gently.
Then take a coffee break.
Go ahead and break a leg, break a horse,
Break the connection, break a code.
Break away and break bad habits.
But don’t step on a crack and break your mothers back.
Don’t break in and don’t break out.
Don’t break mirrors, don’t break your neck.
I’ve broken up, I’ve broken down.
Broken hearts, broken promises,
And the silences that must be broken
Before we break apart .
Break a record, break a rule,
But never break a spirit or anybody’s bones.
Precious things get broken.
When you add up all the shattered bits of china
What are the broken pieces worth?
It’s impossible to say.
Might as well try to break it down
For every sorry fragment
Of a broken dream.