The Lords of Autumn

or

Halloween Poem 2007

The lords of autumn scrape their feet ­
Through sticks and leaves, 
With paint and fangs, 
With swords and sheets. 
A 4-foot pirate looks at me, 
“What are you supposed to be?” 

Me? With my abstract thoughts? 
With my silly schemes? 
And selfish plots? 
With my pointless dreams? 
A childish specter looks at me: 
“What are you supposed to be?” 

Me? With my balance act 
On wobbling wire? 
“I’m just a grasshopper, kid, 
Escaping through a forest fire.” 
A little witch looks up at me: 
“What are you supposed to be?” 

Me? With my thoughts on God? 
With my urge to fight? 
“I’m just a depraved moth 
In a frantic flight, 
Searching for the source of troth, 
Inspecting rumors of light." 

The lords of autumn scrape their feet ­
Through sticks and leaves, 
With paint and fangs. 
With swords and sheets. 
“What are you supposed to be?” 
Asks a hooded elf. 

“I think this year I’ll be myself.”




  • CATEGORY: creativity and related futility

  • 10-28-2012

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