He not at all likes Halloween
And greedy children he can’t stand
He hates to hear them run and scream
And roam the streets in costumed bands
He hates their little spooky threats
As they thrust forth their greedy hands
Those dirty little fingered-nets
That snatch and grab and make demands
He wants to put away the sweets
Remove the pies and buns from view
Hide the truffles and the treats
From that obnoxious, grubby crew
In fact, he wants to close up shop
On this of all the nights he dreads
And take a break from stirring glop
That forms the tangy gingerbreads
He reached to turn the sign to CLOSED
Yet something stayed his fleshy hand
A tasty circumstance arose
And so he let the OPEN stand
A mother with her tot in hand
Stepped inside the steaming shop
And, at the bell, the Baker-Man
Appeared behind the lemon-drops
He rubbed his hands and smiled his smile
And, quiet, flipped the brassy lock
He stretched to better see the child
Hidden in its mother’s frock.
“Come in!” he cooed, all warm sincere
And glided forth with not a sound
He bid them sweetly to come near
And deftly turned the CLOSED sign ‘round
He waited, oh so patiently
While they surveyed the treats
And dialed the oven “blistery”
As mom began to speak
"Do you serve little children here?"
She asked, and pushed the tot full-view
He could not check his creeping leer
And answered with impassioned cheer
“Yes, madam,” he hissed. “We DO!”
~ AngelMay ~
Color Me: Lazy
I can’t seem to keep up lately with this blog. I try to race around reading everyone else’s blog, but some of you are so prolific that I just can’t keep up with you, either.
Color Me: Sad
I believe the Mommy deer (whom I call “Mommy”) was killed about 100 yards up the road last week. I’ve seen her twins in the neighborhood without any sign of her on several occasions. Last night I heard coyote yipping and howling and I held my breath hoping they had not found one (or both) of those twins. I don’t do the “red in tooth and claw” thing very well. The horrors of nature are beyond my ability to bear.
Color Me: Angry
The horrors of humanity are even more difficult for me to bear. Yesterday I read of a man in Tennessee whose house burned to the ground while firefighters watched and refused to help because he hadn’t paid his $75 “subscription” fee.
And I read of a 4-year-old girl who died in NY and who only weighed 18 pounds. Her mother has been arrested. Four years too late.
Color Me: Outraged
I read also that the “Tea Partiers” have made a propaganda-filled coloring book for children; a book that not only gets our own history wrong but also mangles the English language while doing it. Both are unforgivable. Children should not be the victims of politics.
Color Me: Anxious
It’s October. As an investor I always get nervous when this month rolls around and I try to keep a close eye on my stocks. The market does not love me. The market does not love you. The market is like an undisciplined child that runs around getting into all sorts of trouble. And my little “stash” is at its mercy. Must watch. Must watch. And keep finger on button…
Color Me: Excited
I have sprung for an expensive sewing machine. Er… excuse me… it’s NOT a sewing machine – at least not according to its manual. It is, instead, a sewing COMPUTER. (Times have really changed since my mother’s old treadle-powered Singer.)
And… we all know how one thing leads to another. This thing led to the additional purchase of a cabinet in which to house it. You can’t just leave an expensive sewing COMPUTER lying around to be tripped over and/or dropped down the stairs as you schlep it from hither to yon. No way. It requires its own expensive sewing cabinet with a hydraulic lift and drawers and stuff.
The cabinet, of course, requires space. To get the space, furniture must be moved. Even with the moving of the furniture, there is the problem of the cabinet expansion into even more space when it is opened. This required head-scratching. And…
…led to the purchase of a new computer desk. Yes, it’s a leap. But, trust me, I know what I’m doing here.
Color Me: Procrastinating
I could be cutting out the fabric for my next quilt (which will be made on my new sewing COMPUTER which will probably be placed where my current REAL computer currently sits and which will be moved to the space formerly occupied by my china cabinet when the new computer cabinet arrives – whew!).
As I said… I could be cutting out the fabric for my next quilt but I procrastinate. I dilly. And then I dally. And then I take a nap.
Color Me: Retired.
Being not of entire mind
Yet near on half-aware
I recognized the flames that burned
Were torture – yet I did not care
My skin seared from the torrid heat
My face full hot on fire
I tossed and moaned and sought relief
A primal, animal desire
The heat rose ever more intense
The fire burned aching hot
Release from this delicious hell
Was all my conscious thought
At last the blaze, in final flare,
Left embers kindly glowing lower
A foot I thrust into cool air
And tossed aside my tangled hair
And turned the pillow over
I’ve always wanted to learn how to ride a unicycle. Of course, I think I’ve waited way too long now. At this point in my life I would probably break my neck, or worse, my hip. Then it would all be over. Bah! I guess I can check that one off my bucket list.
Specifically, the new tv program called “Covert Affairs.” Sometimes I wonder what the producers and directors are thinking when they cast the characters for something like this. Now, the lead lady in this show is very pretty – even engaging. But she has this mane of long, blonde hair that flies out in all directions when she’s running away from – or after – some perp. Anybody with half a brain would understand that someone who is undercover and in a position to be in close proximity to the “bad guys” would need to have a haircut that is so short the bad guy cannot grab it to catch her and hold her – so short it can’t get caught in elevator doors or any kind of machinery. She would want, in short (pun intended), a kind of a crew-cut for women spies.
I have to confess that I’ve never wanted to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I have no death wish at all. None. I also don’t want to ride roller coasters or climb the highest mountain. Of course READING about people who actually do these things is another story. It’s all very enjoyable as I sit snuggled into a soft leather chair or sofa in the comfort and safety of my home – like the coward I am.
Well, ok, I almost never think about liver.
I’ve thought a lot about this lately as I’ve watched my gains slowly evaporate into little poofs of nothingness. Why is the stock market trying to kill me? Why?
I should pin that one to the refrigerator door. No! Wait! Maybe this one:
You prehistoric plant with rustling fronds
That whisper in the gentle breezes of soft summer nights
In pleasant harmony to rhythmic moon-lit waves
Softly lapping the evening-cooled beach sands
Such power lies in that soft sound to resurrect ancient memories
And call them forth in treasured scenes that float easily to the mind’s surface
Then stab deeply at hearts that ache for remembered nights long gone
Nights when piano bars in upscale lounges mellowed supple lovelies
In their backless, basic black and pearls
Their limbs smooth as the jazz notes from the gleaming baby grand
Their heels clicking on palm-lined patios and marble dance floors
Then gliding silently over deep plush carpet to their velvet-cushioned seats
On the arms of handsome, eager young gentlemen who opened doors
And fetched icy, tinkling, umbrella-bedecked highballs in frosty glasses
To set before them as offerings unto a goddess.
Laughter, then, was easy and the nights were satin and silk
Nights, it was imagined, that could never – and would never – end
For we were young and full of longing and passion for love and for life
Without notion of time and the ravages of which it is not only capable
You powerful, prehistoric plant
I hear your whisper and close my eyes
Floating back in time…
Perhaps the cause was a very black thumb.
Nor sure if it was or not.
But the flowers, parched and exhausted
Bent to the rim of the pot.
They wouldn't stand up. They wouldn't please.
They wouldn't sway gently in the soft, summer breeze.
They wouldn't do a single thing
You'd think a flower oughter
And all because of a silly black thumb
Or want of a drink of water.
AngelMay, August 2010
Click on the Magpie Stamp to find other Magpie Tales contributions.
Color Me Brown
Brown is a great color. Who could resist this?
And brown is a very nice color if you are expecting a package.
But you want to be careful with brown in your clothing.
Some people who wear brown tend to be mean and walk funny.
Some people think these brown things are really good, but I’m afraid that I’m not one of them.
Here’s a cute little brown thing. But I wouldn’t want him in my house.
And here’s something brown that almost everybody likes:
I could go on and on but I have to stop somewhere so…
Finally, here is a little brown thing that everyone has seen at one time or another:
Some time back a co-worker of mine used to bake anatomically correct gingerbread men (and women) and bring them in to work during the holidays.
Of course nobody got a thing done on those days.
Where I used to be skinny
I’ve now put on weight
And that’s only one of the things
That I hate.
I hate that my taste buds
Seem to have died
My hearing has gone
And my bottom’s grown wide
My body, once supple
Seems stiff and unsure
It seems to have lost
All its leggy allure
I hate that I’m wrinkled
With freckles galore
In fact there are freckles
I’ve not seen before
My hair has grown thin
And refuses to shine
And how can those awful grey eyebrows
I drool in my sleep
And I scratch when I itch
I can’t stand loud noises
God! What a bitch!
My eyes will not focus
My brain will not think
The whole thing’s depressing
Enough that I drink
I hobble around on bad knee
And trick toe
Cursing the need
To get up and to go
I’d rather sit quietly
On my behind
Munching on bon-bons
And sipping red wine
Well, at least I’m not old
like that neighbor next door
It’s just that - I guess -
I’m not young anymore.