All Hallows’ Eve/The Old Farmhouse
When we walked down on Halloween
Our eyes beheld a sight—
Of figures dancing ‘round a fire
One great big Ball of light
When the shadows began to part
Oh how the moment froze!
The light fell through their Bodies thin—
Illuminating Bones
Because we had to hurry quick
The road began to fly
The smoky Wind pushed back our hair
Until we heard my Cry—
My hands had disappeared, instead
A swath of Bone appeared
A clattering of skulls was heard
All grinning to their Ears—
Scribbles
As children,
They were taught to color in the lines,
And they learned that if somehow the crayon slipped
And strayed from the boundaries of that black line,
The picture became worthless.
They regarded their teachers as authorities on such matters
And listened as they fed them lies about art and its value.
And as the children grew,
They carried false notions with them
And stayed far away from any scribbles.
Beautiful scribbles that were full of meaning and life
Were thrown away and lost forever while
Their more conventional counterparts were framed
And hung on the wall right next to the ones that looked
Just like them.