Poetic Reflections: Thirteen-O-Clock!
Let’s be serious. (A very stern look.) Ha, fooled ya. Probably scared you a tick or a tock if you’ll admit it. You won’t? Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?
Poetic Reflections: Mothers
I was planning to call this “Blank”. I had even typed it up at the top in preparation, but at the last minute I decided to change the theme . . .
Poetic Reflections: Horror Limericks
Time, time, time. I think it’s time. Yes, that’s what it is. The next subject for a poetic reflection. No, no, no. Scratch that. Well, it is high time for a new column.
Poetic Reflections: paranormities
Although I tend to be old-fashioned and behind the times in many ways, whether by choice or budget or for some other reason probably a bit more peculiar . . .
Poetic Reflections: lake monsters
Fishing about in my brainpool for a suitable title and theme of my next poetry column, I hooked a big one. You know the beast, one of those grandiose whoppers that gives birth to legends.
Poetic Reflections: horror sisters
’Tis that time of year, my dear, when it must be mentioned unmentionable things. You know what I’m talking about . . . all the things that get swept under the rug the rest of the time . . .
Poetic Reflections: havoc
In life there are periods of calm punctuated by phases of unrest when things become hectic. And then there are times when You-Know-Where breaks loose . . .
Poetic Reflections: inspiration’s perspiration
Yes, you read correctly. This is about perspiration. But not just any perspiration. No, no. The stuff of inspiration. More to my point, the sweat of inspiration.
Poetic Reflections: bombilation
There is a lot of static in the world. The drone or buzz of contention in the air. A steady hum in your ears if you’re like me. You can hear it if you stop to listen.
Poetic Reflections: retrospect
If people could save all of the time in a bottle that they spend in retrospect . . . clinging to what was or what could have been instead of looking forward to life, moving on . . .
Poetic Reflections: Poe-etic
Some days I think I’m turning into Poe. (I really think so.) The air of doom, the gloom, the morosity and sombrerity. (I threw in a hat pun . . .
Poetic Reflections: the rise of the fall
Some of my column intros actually make sense. And then there are those that go skipping off in their own misdirections through fields of shruggeries and flowered flumpheries, amid the bognacious trills . . .
Poetic Reflections: Holey cow!
What if, instead of holy, cows were holey? If the black spots on the average dairy breed were empty spaces rather than splotches? Where might the rest of the cow be?
Poetic Reflections: horror haiku too
Creating Horror Haiku was so much fun, I decided to take a second sojourn into the art of the concise. For the sake of brevity, I shall keep my intro short . . .
Poetic Reflections: horror haiku
There is an art to brevity. For once I shall strive to be brief, though my poems are generally anything but that. As are these perflaffly, pregumptuous, extracapitulated, conundrum-hummous intros.
Poetic Reflections: night howls
We’ve all heard them. Banshee yodels in the dark. Sometimes rattling the windows. Other times a distant shriek. Maybe an unheard scream building up inside: a peal of effusive all-out joy . . .
Poetic Reflections: never a dull moment
Life is full of contrasts and paradoxes, things that add up and things that don’t. Things that fall into place, and things that contradict themselves. Take the brightness of dull, for example.
Poetic Reflections: stark raving mad
Is there a level at which one can be considered “stark raving mad”? Some mark on a graph or meter that measures the drop-off point of sanity? Or does it vary . . .
Poetic Reflections: horror she wrote
“It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light . . .
Poetic Reflections: envious
In a movie I just watched, one woman cut off the face of a younger woman who was like a daughter to her, then wore it like a mask to fool the guy both women wanted.
Poetic Reflections: being off
This time of year there is much talk of Seasons and Greetings and Winter and Weather. Especially if your T.V. only gets The Weather Channel. And you leave it on day and night.
Poetic Reflections: the little things
We have all heard it said that “the little things” mean a lot, “the little things” are most important, and when we are in a thankful mood we should appreciate “the little things”.
Poetic Reflections: chocolate-covered eyes
When presented a box of bonbons, has it ever crossed your mind that the center might not be what you expect? Of course, it’s anybody’s guess what hides inside a mixed assortment of chocolates!
Poetic Reflections: serendipitous
What if you are minding your own business and a curious stranger passes you by, carrying a sack that wafts a fragrance that strikes a chord — reminiscent of an intangible emotion . . .
Poetic Reflections: blue moon
A moonlit night is oft described as silvery, defined by a pale sickle or floating saucer illumining the blue-black sky. It can represent a comforting presence against dark uncertainties . . .