October Dreams on Poetry Day

—Photo by Ann Privateer

ALONE

—Ann Privateer, Davis

alone, trying not to be
too infused with light—

night garb shadows
stitched with wind
and winsome melody.

Thoughts melt, street signs
sing a saxophone lament
distant howls hypnotize.

Even the road is not free
shoe leather names you
everything old is new again
restlessness unravels repetition
superlatives drown in the hollow.

A tedium pace graces each face
so lost as their chapters unravel
like the Edsel under the tarp.

_________________

PUMPKIN HEAD
—Patricia Hickerson, Davis

wildly orange
stretches for miles
cousin to thousands
rolling across meadows
take one home
carve out the guts
light from within
grinning candle face
snaggled teeth
an old lady of a pumpkin
caving in, soon to die
pumpkin on the porch
scares the kids
why would anyone want a pumpkin?
begins to rot
smell it a mile
orange strings turn brown
throw it in the garbage
let it smile to itself
death of a pumpkin 

                  

___________________

PUMPKIN TERROR
—Patricia Hickerson

a dream of pumpkins grinning
thousands of pumpkins laughing in the fields
a show of orange heads
toothless but happy
and I’m all safe and sound in bed
blankets warm and cozy
but now the door slowly opens
what! I awake to….

the door slowly opening
when I am just settling down
to a long October dream of pumpkins
in the fields beyond the trees
the door

it slowly opens
after my first yawn into sleep
did I see a shadow beyond the door?
a grinning pumpkin head?
a shadow of a dream

settling down to deep sleep
as the door slowly opens
just a crack at first
then a shadow

a shadow beyond the door
as it slowly opens
darkness beyond
to disturb my doze into sleep
as the door

it slowly opens
should I scream?
or is it imagination
plaguing me again
as I pass in and out of sleep
deep under the covers
as the door slowly
yes, it slowly opens

—Photo by Ann Privateer

HALLOWEEN GRANDPA

—Patricia Hickerson
 
most of his life
Grandpa lived on the streets 
carousing with his buddies
not good for much 
didn’t support his family
cheated on his wife
looking for a rich widder-woman

by his 80s
outlived two wives 
pretty far gone
Halloween nightmare 

at midnight
candy tray empty
trick-or-treaters gone
on the living room couch
dozing off
house quiet as a tomb, all doors closed
everyone fast asleep… 
hear the click of the hall light 
Grandpa stumbling down the hallway. 
what’s the old geezer want and what is he doing? 
does he think it’s daytime? 
wants to go out for a walk?
wants me? 
comes to his senses
turns out the light 
stumbles back to bed

_________________

DADDY’S LAST BREATH
—Patricia Hickerson

came downstairs at midnight
to blow out the Halloween candles
still flickering on the piano
along with family photos
Mother in 1985
Daddy in…

well, heck, Daddy, what are you doing here?
thought you died a long time ago
looking like a toothless pumpkin head
poor Daddy dead by your own hand
you didn’t mean it
but couldn’t resist those puffs of smoke

here you are sitting in your easy chair
smoking a Camel
is that really what I see dangling
between your poor old dried-up lips? a Camel?
isn’t that what killed you?
oh, don’t get up
I can see you well enough from here
wreathed in smoke as usual
a ghost of your younger self
overcome by Camel commercials
believing Camels were harmless
scoffing at the idea of “coffin nails”

hmmm, I can still smell the smoke
the stale smoke smell I used to come home to
the smell of your last Camel
I would start sneezing and coughing
the smoke you finally choked on
smoke took the place of breath
snuffed the air from your lungs
poor Daddy, you couldn’t know
kept on lighting Camels
blowing smoke through your nose and mouth

nevertheless, my poor Daddy,
stay where you are
try to have a Happy Halloween
 

___________________

Today's LittleNip:

NOT ONLY

—Ann Privateer

decompress less
of your ego
the organic emerges
whips up easy symmetry
into a loose
dense froth
of ingredients
so unencumbered
it will spill like hemlock
into a mini version
of occurrences
more palatable
than a hot fudge Sunday.

____________________

—Medusa, who thanks Davisites Ann Privateer and Pat Hickerson for today's poems and photos, and who joins them in wishing Sacramento a Happy Poetry Day, as well as congratulating Jeff Knorr on his inauguration as Sacramento Poet Laureate tonight at New City Hall! Scroll down to the blue board at the right for details.

   —Photo by Ann Privateer