“Alas! She laughed as he swooped into the parlor like some minor royalty. “He has surely forgotten his station!” She turned her silver Challis toward he lips and drank of the blood within., no one noticing as she licked a stray drop from her lip. “Soon, he would be reminded,” she smiled.
In our small town the light posts are all decked
in Christmas garb. The carols have begun.
But why? I want to know. The ground’s still flecked
with leaves. The costumed goblins had their fun,
Thanksgiving’s not yet here. We need to rest
around each celebration, let it steep.
I wish anticipation in the quest
that waiting brings. Excited children creep
toward Christmas trees and Santa. But we spoil
much happiness by heaping holidays
upon another, overlapping soil
of Halloween on giving thanks, a maze
diluting Christmas. In my perfect world,
each should enjoy its own significance.
The flags of holidays should be unfurled
by bits, allowing us to see their dance.
I was born on Halloween
when witches pay their due.
Everyone thinks I’m so mean,
but what am I to do?
My mother named me Hazel,
and makes me ride a broom.
She feeds me brew with basil,
and locks me in my room.
My nose is long and crooked.
My pet cat, Boo is black.
They say that I am wicked.
Spooky Pumpkins for Halloween
Scary faces evil and mean
Carved with malice and marked with fear
A creepy tradition year after year
Share your photo in the Weekly Photo Challenge:Silhouette. To make it easy for others to check out your photos, title your blog post “Weekly Photo Challenge: (theme of the week)” and be sure to use the “postaday″ …
I love this time of year, it’s Autumn time,
with pumpkins in the fields for Halloween,
to leave out autumn would be such a crime
yet people seem to think it’s a has-been.
Why is there so much Christmas stuff about
when that season is still three months away?
Freshly Pressed has got a Christmas post out
and Christmas mug’s on 20 Lines today!
We’ve still another ten days left to go
before the ghouls and witches gives us frights
and then we have the fireworks and the show
of bonfire, Guy Fawkes and his noisy night.
And even then it’s seven weeks before
Christmas comes a-banging on our door.
I’m sick of seeing Christmas things about
It’s Halloween I keep wanting to shout out!
The recreation department in our town held their Third Annual PUMPKIN STROLL
The children came in beautiful costumes
They brought Carved Pumpkins for the contest
Vendors set up tables with items for sale but they all had candy to pass out to the children who also were Trick or Treating(dress rehearsal for the 31st)
We had a table with lots of candy as well and our raffle items for the Garden Club fundraising effort.
As Halloween is getting closer these places see much destruction.
Old stones knocked over and broken in two.
Who raises children that seem to think this is something fun to do?
These days the dead do not get much time to REST IN PEACE.
I live beside a beautiful old place of rest and much destruction took place
before I moved here.
I watch over the dead.
Who else would?
I think they deserve respect.
Try to raise your children to respect these places.
As the holiday approaches call the police if you see
something going on in one, as you pass by.
The Haunted House
I like the cider, doughnuts, hayride, Trick
or Treat. One year we dared a haunted house
to scare us. Brave fronts all, we tried to douse
our rising fears, but terror took a lick
like fire beneath a door. Once in, we could
not run away, and pitch-black atmosphere
made cold our blood. The first scene? Butcher gear
and hanging slabs of meat. Men, knives, and wood-
block tables gave us shivers and a chill.
On to the next room: From a coffin rose
a dead thing, called our daughter’s name. We froze.
As all the screams around us mounted, shrill
and terrified, we hugged the wall. Come here,
the dead thing moaned. Into the next room: O,
the floor fell out. Please, no, how far below
will I go when I step? A masked man’s jeer
shot fright into our son, now in our arms.
What next? We couldn’t see a thing, nor know
when something would jump out. When would this show
be over so we could escape its harms?
A witch stirred cauldrons of a nasty brew
and cackled, Have a taste of this, my sweet.
We noticed pointed slippers on her feet,
the needled hat upon her head. Adieu,
then, and she gave us candy, showed us through
the door. Our children’s faces of surprise
displayed the shock we felt. No brooms, no flies…
“A good witch,” breathed our daughter. We withdrew
with deep relief but always wondered who’d
lie in a coffin. Mystery remains.
Still, to this day, I feel such stomach pains
remembering who made me come unglued.
It’s no secret , while I’m going through rehab and recovery I’m staying at my mom and dads . Growing up here was rather unsettling at times , and grand at others . An old story my dad would tell us was “Peg leg Wilson ” a made up tail about an old guy with a wooden leg . I wont lie , it scare the crap out of me and I think the other kids as well . We grew up in an old two-story house with plenty of noises on its own , without the manufacture of them . My younger brother and I shared a bedroom , it was the biggest bedroom in the house . It had a small closet in one of the corners that I was always scared of . When the lights went off the noises always began .
I have visited my mom and dad over the years many times and always felt a presence around me . This time visiting I am feeling this a little more , but i put it off due to my body healing . The other day I was wandering around the yard , Taking pictures of some flowers . I actually posted them on 20 lines under the heading of Sights of summer . Anyway , I walked into the garage and heard something , I listened a little closer , It was my name . Someone was calling my name in a weak whisper two or three times . I looked over towards the window of the garage and quickly took a picture . I couldn’t see anything so I blew it off to my imagination and returned inside . Today I looked at the picture , to my amazement there is someone in the window . Now I showed this to my mom ( it’s no one I know ) And she tells me it looks identical to a man who lived here before them . Here’s the thing that has my skin crawling …He died in this house the day I was born….
This is the presence following me….I know now I’m not crazy…..
Hope everyone reblogs these challenges on their respective blogs so all our friends can get involved.
I have one more challenge , for the writers in us …
Write a poem or short story about the scariest time you ever had
Please reblog and get this out to everyone on WordPress , lets show them how we do things at 20 lines …this challenge is the same as always ..post to 20 lines blog or leave in these comments and I will post for you …this challenge will run all month until Halloween…
The most likes on the 20 lines blog will win , I wish to add that we all win when we write so please have fun…..remember to like , comment and share…
- 20 lines weekend photo challenge (anexerciseindiscipline.wordpress.com)
- The Weekend (Timzauto’s 20 Lines Weekend Challenge) (anexerciseindiscipline.wordpress.com)
I get up everyday to the same smell of rejuvenated life . The attitude of the past slowly leaving as the new fills the day . I sometimes get stuck in the past as we all have small failures while we heal and look for future success . This particular morning the feelings a bit stronger , the fresh air engulfs my being like the sight of a newborn life . The flood of emotions that haunted my day are being sorted , revisited , processed so future feelings can be dealt with in a more resourceful manner without the fear of relapse . I have been so afraid of feeling , I have regressed my natural sense of livelihood . I have accepted less from my day-to-day existence , hiding from the joys of family and friends only to be living in lies from one to another . This new day , today’s new air has something for me , I feel it . I know I’m here for a reason , this feeling , this caress that life holds for me is overflowing today . I love the smell of morning air……..
- Hello again! (elephangaroo.blogspot.com)
Three children, heads down
focused on the task of scraping
pulpy orange miracle from the
inside of its belly, talking
amongst themselves, alternately
marveling at the webbing
in between their fingers and
I am reminded how new it all is,
each time a new memory,
new tendril of growth.