Halloween approaches and it conjures up associations with the horror films of Hollywood. There was “Attack of the Killer Tomatos,” “Frankenstein,” “The Exorcist.” Think of anything Hitchcock … “Psycho,” “The Birds,” “Vertigo.” Think of a title to use as the title of your poem and write it. Or make up your own Horror film title and be inspired by it … If you dare!
MARIE’S ATTEMPT:
YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN Don’t like the night things that go bump, or when bloodcurdling things make me jump. But I do like to roar, and since ’74, I still do when I think of, “what hump?” © Marie Elena Good, 2021
WALT’S POEM:
FRANKENBEAN’S MONSTER
Make shift monsters come together nicely, like grandma’s random recipes // bits of this, handfuls of that. A brain from the guy down the lane. Who needs a top hat and cane to dance? Give a ghoul a whirl and he’ll surely prance. Sometimes, even agile monsters tend to rip their pants. They’ll even rip in their pants, if you must know. And it goes to show, from generation to regeneration, born-again monsters aren’t too mean until you give them a belly full of beans. © Walter J Wojtanik - 2021
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
😂😂😂 Good one! I got a kick out of your poems this morning!
😀 Thanks! Got such a kick out of Walt’s this morning! LOL!
I agree, and both poems made me laugh…
TRICK, TREAT, OR RETREAT
Misshapen ghouls.
The hobgoblins of old.
The subtle breeze of leaves.
Jack O’ Lanterns to be sold.
Soft preying eyes.
Predators in disguise.
Monsters romping anew.
Cackling crows of dark skies.
The night feared by most.
A hooded creepy host.
The deception of many sweets.
That time of Trick or Treat.
A time we welcome ghosts.
Where the grim reaper boasts.
Praising death coast to coast.
That day—we should all retreat.
Benjamin Thomas
Spot on.
Creative title, and straight on through.
Thanks!
Huge smile
😃
Witty and clever
It was fun. Thanks Sara.
THE HORROR OF MIRRORS
It is the same.
Everywhere.
At every turn.
To the left.
To the right.
Crooked distortions.
The singe of light,
from one’s own
reflection.
The nightmare,
of truth.
Of our eye’s
own detection.
True wickedness.
Absolute horror.
That offers
no protection.
No masks.
No smiles.
No mistakes.
No hidden guises.
No fakes.
Fear itself.
Scare of the ages.
Everywhere you look—
You see your own cages.
The absolute
horror of horrors.
When you get a good taste,
of true perception—
and see your own face.
Benjamin Thomas
Sounds like a good argument for breaking mirrors.
😂😂
Ha! True horror is the dressing room tri-fold.
(love the poem)
Thanks Barbara!
An unfortunate, too-often-terrifying truth! 😀
Yup.
This reminded me of the scariest thing at the fair…. the glass house…. UGH… Being dyslexic I get really upset and in a panic…. and those wobbly mirrors and sometimes you are in a space where there is infinity in the mirrors.
Oooooh!
😉
I am heading off to church, but I wanted to tell Y’all that finished the 1st draft of the third novel in my series yesterday afternoon. I am over the moon…
Congrats. Delicious elation is deserved.
thank you, and I am floating on it…
Excellent! Congratulations, Mary!
thanks
You should be!
THE BEINGS OF HALLOWE’EN
When all hallows desport on their eve,
it seems each has a trick up its sleeve
till all saints and all souls
come, reprising their roles,
and start sending the ghouls back to grieve.
Excellent!
HA! Good one, Bill!
love it
Outstanding, William! Love that use of ‘desport’.
Marie, somewhere, Mel Brooks is chuckling.
😀
Love M.E.’s choice. Such a wonderful movie! The presentation of the monster has got to be one of the greatest scenes in film, comedy or not. What hump, indeed.
Here’s my horror, inspired by that.
Horrible Soft-Shoe
It was gym class
even though we were wearing clothes
and not the one-piece, snap-on
horrible gym suits we’d practiced dancing in.
The two second period classes,
boys and girls were joined.
Our teacher, mannish, her hair in a bun,
and the boy’s Coach played records.
I had never been touched, and it frightened me.
I needn’t have worried..
Love it!
Big smile here
Thanks, Barbara! You just made my day. 🙂
And oh my goodness yes, this! I FEEL it!
delightful
Good one, Barbara! I remember those gym suits.
Walt, what a delight. Love especially the rips in the pants.
😂
*Inspired by Stephen King’s book – Carrie.
THE PROM QUEEN
A little innocent thing.
Kept to her own world—
For a time. Until it was time,
for it to be shattered…
By the hammers of
a world of affliction.
Of cruel misgivings.
A little innocent thing.
Made guilty by twisted
convictions. Her mother
the judge, jury, executioner.
Her friends by a trial of fire
and brimstone. The facade
of loyalty.
A little innocent thing.
Pushed to the breaking point—
of no return. An explosion
of hidden secrets, manifested
bitter power. Unleashed, at the
last hour.
In the end.
The little innocent thing,
became the prom Queen—
of dark revenge. Against
a wicked world who suffered
a trial—by her fire. Who then became
the judge, jury, and executioner.
© Benjamin Thomas
Wonderful. The movie Carrie is playing in my head as I read this poem.
Thanks Mike. It’s such a wonderful, compelling, and tragic story.
You captured it here, Benjamin.
Thanks. 👌
Thanks 😊
Stephen King better watch out
😊
Perfect!
Thanks!
All They Want to Do is Reach Out
(Inspired by an episode of Dr. Who)
Apparitions surround me
crying out
I want my mommy,
after a war lost.
And I’m lost in visions
as time bends and bends,
and each time
the world around me
is changed.
(It’s never the same.)
The chorus of their voices
haunts me,
and I retreat.
Their embodied grief
cloaked in darkness
bears their age,
but they’re still
children without a home.
With outstretched arms
they plead
they plead,
but inside I fear
if they touch me
I’ll become one of them.
I shout at them
Go to your room,
and save myself-
I still have
1,000 lives to live.
This is haunting.
Sure is. Well done, Mike!
Thanks, Marie.
Thanks.
I’m not familiar with Dr. Who, but very nice poem.
Yes, the fear is bigger on the inside
wow
Nicely spooky!
MacDONALD AND EDDY HAD IT RIGHT
I have a great horror of horror
and thus I am not an explorer
of films meant to scare,
but prefer movies where
a good guy woos a gal to adore her.
Another fun limerick! And oh man, I am right there with ya!
Bingo!
yep I do also….
What a fun prompt! I enjoy watching scary movies in October building up to Halloween.
Not me, Maria! I’m too chicken! 😀
House of Wax (1953)
I was only nine but it was a time before much tv, so we went to movies to relax, but that was before I saw that scary one, that House of Wax. Vincent Price was a professor, but if I’m now to be a true confessor, I admit it was more Charles Bronson frightening me as Igor. My shakes didn’t stop, not even when Frank Lovejoy entered as a cop, and the shivers stayed the same with Dabs Greer as Sgt. Shane, while my heart felt that jerk when Roy Roberts came on as Matthew Burke. You’d think Carolyn Jones as Cathy Gray would alleviate that day, but no way, I say. I can’t lie, nor pretend, I didn’t make it to the end, as out of the theater I ran, still remember it as an old man, and try as a might, there was no sleep for me that night.
Right up my ally, this! Love the creativity and rhyme throughout. And you make me feel better about my own timidity when it comes to horror films. I’m obviously in great company! ❤
This is a delight to read out load, but I’m glad I never saw that blankety-blank picture.
Nice. I haven’t seen it yet, plan on watching the newer version of the house of wax. Didn’t know the original went back to 1953!!
Any horror movie that has Vincent Price in it, is always eerie.
One I wrote last year:
THE BLOB
The Blob was unearthed
in the year of my birth.
It debuted the iconic McQueen.
Still, I’ve not seen a scene
on the cinema’s screen.
(I’ve an awkwardly fragile fright gene.)
But the theme song is neat –
it is hip and upbeat.
For a ‘horror’ble soundtrack, a feat!
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Delightful!
Thank you, sir!
I remember the blob!! 😂😂😂
LOL! You’re way too young for that! 😉
It was before my time, but I did see the movie a few times and Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. Loved it!
love it and I have never seen it either
Thank you!
Well done, Marie!
Thanks so much, Sara!
[…] a fun prompt over at Poetic Bloomings today. Prompt #357 is Featured Presentation: choose a Halloween movie as a title or make up a Halloween movie title of your own as the title of […]
👌
I like your Halloween horror movie
Scary Moments I’ll Never Forget
Her bed raised as she convulsed
She spewed vulgarities at her mother
Then her head spun three-sixty and
Out came the green projectile puke
The holey hockey mask set the tone
Bloodstained coveralls added effect
He killed with whatever he held
The first was better than the sequels
A hand of razor sharp knives cut
Deep into whoever was near him
The scariest scene was when the woman
Was pulled through the blue door window
“Candy Man!! Candy Man!!” Nope!
Ain’t gonna repeat that three times
Not even in mocking or being funny
Ain’t worth the risk of meeting the man
The house was typically Japanese
But the spirit inside was hideous
That low, slow growl was haunting
And that face! That child! Not again!
A long, long time ago I gave them all up
Not worth the shock to the heart
Or the blood and gore overload and
Looking back, I don’t miss them at all
But I will watch an occasional spoof
Scary laughs are much more enjoyable
And they never, ever haunt my dreams
And I like my dreams unhaunted
I hear ya, Earl. Ever since I was a small child and “House on Haunted Hill” came on TV, I decided horror movies are not for me. But when I was in high school, I “saw” The Exorcist on the big screen. I put “saw” in quotes, because I kept my eyes closed through nearly the entire movie. Had I been able to close my ears somehow, I would have done that as well. Well … I would have left the theater altogether, had I not let the boy I was with make me feel like I had to choice but to stay. Stupid me. I haven’t seen a horror flick since, and don’t intend to.
Great poem!
Yes, Marie, The Exorcist was watched through finger slats.
Still gives me chills to think about it!
🙀👻💀
The “Director’s Cut” is the most horrifying. All the cuts are put back in. And the effects are freaky. Seriously got chills up my spine.
Hi Earl! I’ve never seen the Candy Man.
A tale of ghosts, sort of…
Jackie and I were partners in crime.
We rode our bikes, and raced
The two circles as if we owned them.
There was an old house
Which had been habited by an artist.
I had been up in the tree house,
And he drew me daydreaming there.
He moved away, and Jackie and I claimed
This house as our own…
Jackie was a dark eyed boy
With black curls, and a slow smile.
If he hadn’t moved away
I am sure I would have loved him.
I don’t remember the day,
But we decided to scare the little kids…
One of which was his brother.
We plotted our plans
Sitting at my dining table…
We each swiped a few sheets
And fixed them
To ropes and pullies,
That we could have them float like ghosts.
The day arrived, and
Jackie took his bike,
And popped a wheelie for my benefit,
And flew away to bring out the ghosts.
I told the children
To stay close to me,
And as we walked
I told a tale
Completely made up…
Of how the artist had disappeared…
But no one said anything
For he had been murdered one night.
We had to go down this hill, and
There was Jackie normally browned skin,
Shouting, “Go back, there is a ghost.”
I knew what ghosts were…
I had seen one or two, and what he was describing…
Didn’t seem like a ghost to me.
I grabbed his hand, and told the little ones to stay,
And told Jackie, “You are coming with me.”
He said, “NO WAY!”
I gave him the you-have-no-choice look,
And grumbled all the way to the small house.
There was the ghost wearing Ma’s sheet,
And I knew those shoes anywhere.
“Ma,” I cried, “What are you doing here?”
She laughed as she threw off the sheet…
“I thought I would teach you a lesson.”
She did teach me a lesson,
But not the one she had hoped.
I learned never to discuss
Any devious plans in her presence.
It is how I was able a decade later
Break her only rule
With her knowing what I was planning.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
October 24, 2021
HA! Good story, as always!
Thanks it was fun to write…
Great story, Mary!
My first Halloween sort of….
I was five years old.
Joe was thirteen years old.
Ma wanted him to take me
Out to trick or treat…
He didn’t want me to do it.
A girl down the street
Was sweet on him, and
Offered to take me…
Hoping Joe would go with us.
Joe wasn’t interested.
Ma cut up an old sheet,
For me to be a ghost…
Joe told me that he would go,
If he could take me
Down by the railway tracks.
I asked him why…
He made sure Ma wasn’t listening.
He leaned over and whispered,
“So, the gypsies would take you.”
He told the girl he would go with us.
As Halloween drew closer,
My brother Joe would whisper,
They will pierce your ears,
And make you dance around the fire,
And then they will eat you.
I asked Ma if the gypsies ate children.
“Where do you get such nonsense?”
I didn’t tell it was Joe,
And I told him that wasn’t true,
But he said they still will take you.
I asked Ma if the gypsies took children.
She shook her head, and said,
“Who fills your head with such nonsense?”
I never told on Joe,
Because he was my big brother…
But I told him they didn’t take children,
And then he told me…
They don’t take any boy children…
Just little girls,
What do you think happened to our sisters?
I was five and there was eight years
Between me and my brother…
He just might have been right
Because I heard Ma say there were two girls
That she once loved, and they didn’t live with us.
I didn’t know Ma and Da had wanted to adopted
Two little girls but because they had brown eyes,
And all of us had blue, the people said they couldn’t.
I went to Gary and asked about the gypsies,
But he said seriously that he had heard it was true.
Halloween came, and the girl was dressed as a princess,
And Ma put on my ghost costume,
And Joe said he was going with us,
The girl was smiling and
I started screaming…
“I am not going.
I am not going to let the gypsies take me.”
Ma looked hard at Joe,
“What did you tell her?”
He was grinning like the cat that misdirected Alice.
I tore off the sheet,
And ran down the hall,
And hid under the bed
Refusing to come out,
But I got the last laugh.
Ma made Joe go trick or treating,
And when he came home…
She took some of the candy…
And put it up for me,
And the next year Halloween wasn’t mentioned.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
October 24, 2021
Quite a tale!
Yes, and again, an example of a good storyteller at work.
THANK YOU Bill and Benjamin…
My brother Joe constantly told me I was going to be given away. and Thanks. When I was six I got a smallpox shot. I played with an African American boy named James who lived on the street behind us. I could go in his yard, but the house beside his I could not. The man was a mean drunk. I was in that yard, James saw me about the time the man saw me and was running towards me. James grabbed my arm, I was scared by the man, and ran back to my yard. My brother Joe asked me what had happened and I didn’t want to tell him that I had been in that forbidden yard because he would tattle. So I said James grabbed my arm. He told me over and over that day that I was going to turn black and they would have to give me away. I had freckles and he would point to them and say they are getting bigger, by tomorrow you will be given away, and James family won’t take you because you get him into trouble all the time. The next morning I ran to look in a mirror and knew he had lied to me again, and I ran to him eating breakfast and slapped him. James and I remained friends until we moved… I wrote a poem about that years ago and I told Joe when we were grown about how he tried to give me away all the time, and he laughed. I told Ma because she told me Joe was never jealous of me when I was grown that he was and she laughed and said he was very jealous of you.
My older brother would do similar things just to torment me.
then you understand…
Yup. I’ve still got a phobia because of it.
you know it really lingers
Your memories are so keen, and you tell them so entertainingly!
thank you… I have a near photographic memory….
😮😮
That’s a good one!
Shower Madness
Something odd about this motel,
it smells like mothballs and pine scent.
A shower may help to dispel
something odd about this motel.
The caretaker does not seem well.
Oh no! A shadow slips ‘cross vent.
Something odd about this motel,
it smells like mothballs and pine scent.
Reminds me of a horror movie I can’t seem to name!
Ha!
I don’t know of most of the allusions made by other poets for this prompt, as I don’t watch horror stuff, but this sounds like Hitchcock’s Bates Motel. I haven’t seen that film either, but Janet Leigh’s shower scene is famous. It also reminds me of a rail car I was in once. It too had an odd odor, and I later learnt that the previous occupant had died whilst in the car. Talk about strangers on a train. Anyway, I enjoyed the pantoum.
You have the right film, William. Glad you enjoyed it.
How can so few words give me the creeps?! Well done!
Thanks, Marie! Stay out of the shower!!
HA!! 😀
[…] Poetic Bloomings […]
I like it.
SCREAM
Hello?
Who is this?
What’s your favorite scary
movie?
A hooded fiend.
Addicted to the sight,
and spill, of blood.
A masked fiend.
Addicted to the screams
of youth, and fear it seems.
Hello?
A wicked call—
A fatal game of cat
and mouse chase.
Who is this?
A hunting fiend.
And not a friend. Determined
to bring the end of things.
What’s your favorite
scary movie? He says,
the uninvited, ruthless
villain.
He hungers, then feeds,
on the array of screams;
the sweet fear as food
indeed.
Benjamin Thomas
Made me shudder. Especially the final stanza. Whoa …
Sorry! Not sure if you’ve seen any of the Scream movies. So far there’s four and there’s one coming out early next year.
A DINNER TO DIE FOR
Was it the attack of the killer tomatoes?
Or was it the horrors of chicken Alfredo?
The haunted house of cold refried beans?
Liver and onions, with looseleaf collard greens?
Homemade spiced cider, a dash of ground spider?
Pumpkin head soup, and candy corn soufflé?
The server is Michael Myers in his new toupee?
It’s a date! Come on Friday the thirteenth?
Freddie Cougar is hosting, so don’t be late!
Hannibal has the head count—for every costly
plate. Little Chucky will be there. He wants to play
too. Carrie, Candyman, Jason, IT, and some friends
that are new.
Benjamin Thomas
Loaded, this one! 😀
loved this reminded me of a song sung in the 60s by the man who did Monster Mash…it was called Dinner at Dracula’s house…. one line of that song stuck with me. Those are the veins of mummy named Betty but put ketchup on it and it will taste like Spaghetti.
I love the Monster Mash.
there is an entire album of those kind of songs…
JAWS
Life is just a slippery fish.
It stinks—but we always fall for it.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Sometimes we think have it,
try to reel it in—but it’s stronger
than we think.
Its got a lot of wiggle room,
Its got a big fin.
Sometimes life is cruel,
like a shark. With plentiful,
merciless, dark jagged teeth.
Biting, shaking,
gripping by the jaws,
dragging you deep
underneath.
Benjamin Thomas
Sharks get a bum rap. methinks.
My daughter would agree, Bill. She watched a nature show on them, and found them intelligent and endearing.
I’m old enough that I saw the original Jaws in the theater. When I lived in Naples, Florida, in high school. Vowed never to set foot in the Gulf again, lol!
Marie I took my mother to see SOung of Music and she didn’t like it… I took her to see Jaws and she loved it and wanted to go back to see it again and so we saw it again. since her death… I have a DVD of it and watch it at least once every summer…
So interesting!
I loved musicals… She hated them and thought they were silly
I love this, and yeah… I stay clear of sharks the real ones and human ones.
Thanks. Me too. 👌
HAUNTED MEMORIES
Haunted memories of the past
swirl into the present day.
They vault forward from the days
of old into the forefront of the mind.
A tiptoeing shell of the former reality
around the curb of consciousness.
As real and ethereal as fleeting mist,
they disappear on arrival.
Like elusive, acrobatic bugs with a mind
of their own—
they come and go as they please,
agile and fragile as insects.
Sometimes they come in peace, so they say,
or to sink their teeth—
into your peace of mind.
Benjamin Thomas
The Ghosts…
The ghosts they roam my house…
They like to hide and move things.
They dance and ignore the mouse
The ghosts they roam my house…
They think this is their guesthouse,
And hide in drawers my earring.
The ghosts they roam my house…
They like to hide and move things.
The ghosts steal things they like
There are some things they can keep.
I never know when they might strike.
The ghosts steal things they like
This I do dislike
Sometimes I even weep.
The ghosts steal things they like
There are some things they can keep.
The ghosts come at odd times
And I hear a whisper of my name,
But usually, they do their crimes.
The ghosts come at odd times,
But just before bedtimes
They linger remembering my birthname.
The ghosts come at odd times
And I hear a whisper of my name.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
October 26, 2021
To let y’all know I do live with ghosts…
After Ma died,
I thought I was alone in my home
Until one day, the salt and then the pepper
Went flying off the stove
To land softly on the floor.
I had given some of her things away,
And she was not happy.
I went to put on my tiny black earrings.
They were gone, and could not find them.
Months went by and there they were
In a drawer in her bedroom.
I was getting rid of her things,
And salt and pepper flew by me
As I cooked my supper that night.
I laid my glasses in front in front of the monitor
As I worked on my computer, and
I got up and they were gone.
I said, “I need to go buy cat food
For the Inheritance you left me.”
I sat down to write,
And I heard a ping, and
On my printer my glasses lay.
I said, “Thank you,”
And went to buy cat food.
Cleaning the book case one shelf at a time,
I left the delicate moose until last.
A statue of a moose in Christmas lights
I gave to Ma from the animals…
I got to that shelf, and the moose was gone.
A week later my keys disappeared
From the bowl in the kitchen,
And in frustration I cried,
“You can keep the moose,
My toothbrush and my cutting board-
Just give me back the keys.”
I saw a flash of light and there were my keys
Glowing on the end table.”
I thanked the ghost, and the moose is still gone.
I did get the blue and white cat vase back
After two years of looking…
And I dropped an earring in the rain one night
But it was found in the yard of my house…
Unharmed, and glowing a fourth mile
From where I dropped it.
Clothes the ghost doesn’t like
Disappears as does certain music.
I have stopped getting up
When I hear them talking
In muffled voices…
I never see them, but
One night when my heart was broken,
And I was crying as my heart cracked…
I felt my cover being tucked around me…
Much like when I was a child.
I live with ghosts…
They never harm me.
And as time goes by
They come less and less,
But sometimes before
I go to sleep I say,
“Good night…”
To those no longer there.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
October 26, 2021
Let me tell you my story…
I am a banshee listener…
You don’t become one…
You are born one.
My mother was one…
The banshee screams
Out the deaths
But not everyone hears them…
I am one who does.
I was barely three
When I saw the first soul leaving…
I can still see the person
Laying in a bed…
Around her was shimmering light…
Light from another place…
My Grannie pushed me towards her…
And as her hand touched my face
I screamed…
My Grannie shook me hard.
One day she would shake me harder…
She told me not to tell my mother
Where she had taken me.
I never did, and do not know till this day.
I told my mother before he died
The death of her father.
Four hours later she learned his fate,
And said, “Child, don’t say a word.
They will think you are strange.”
She was right they do.
I have been called possessed,
And weird and all sorts of things.
I have been laughed at sometimes nervously.
Friends tell me not to tell them
If I see they are going
For they don’t want to know.
Those who trust science
Make light of what I know
Saying science can’t prove it,
But science can’t prove all things…
It can’t prove God exists,
But I know he does,
And I know He gave to me
This gift because I am strong.
It takes a strong person
To love when you know
The time of their dying…
You see in a dream
Before a nephew was born
I dreamed him three weeks
Before he was twelve
Standing watching my father
Leave in a black limousine.
Twelve years I carried that dream
Tucked away in my heart…
And my father died three weeks
Before that boy was twelve.
As I watched that calendar date
Draw nearer, my heart broke
Into fragments, and scattered to the wind,
It would take time to find
All the pieces so I could be strong again.
The black limousine I saw one day
As I walking though it was not really there…
Told me it would leave one day
With my mother, and it did…
And sometimes when I see a person’s eyes
I can see into their souls…
Most are good, but evil does exist…
For I have seen into its eyes.
I am a banshee listener…
I hear their cries
As they call out that someone’s dying.
I used to warn those,
But I no longer do it…
For it does no use…
But if it comes time for you to pass,
And you need someone to help you…
Ask me and I will help you leave this life…
It is what I do.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
October 26, 2021
By the way… I do these things…
👌
The little girl’s worries…
She was nearly five…
And bright as they come…
She had told me I had white hair,
And laughed with me
When I told her I was white.
This day as I was leaving,
She tugged on my dress.
“Miss Todd be careful.”
I squatted down to her level.
“Why are you worried?”
She hugged my neck, and
Whispered,
“I have seen those scary movies,
And bad things happen
To white people.
I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I told her I would be careful.
She said, “Promise.”
“I promise.”
She kissed my cheek,
And I left being blessed
More than I ever blessed her life.
Mary Elizabeth Todd
October 26, 2021
😊😊
Great start off poem, Marie and Walt.
You got in two movies for your feature presentation, Walt!
Pulse
There is a single hand
moving in one direction
around and around pointing
toward numbers that never change
cutting through the silence
of the room where she sits
working her needle in out
bound by tangled threads
she is trapped
in the space between
air split in two by the hand
the immutable sound
almost too soft to hear
but there there always there
and she can’t get away
from the little man
with his flowers and pushcart
his yellow umbrella barely
sheltering his curling mustache
his blue eyes always watching
fifty years of it and still
she listens to be sure he is
alive and takes her own pulse
to the beat the tick the tock.
Sounds creepy! Good one.