Deviate depart from an established course. As an adjective departing from usual or accepted standards; deviant.
Inspiration be damned, I’m looking for a new muse! One that doesn’t deviate from writing.
My Muse Is Refusing Inspiration She seeks to flatter Herself with flashy gems and men decked out to the nines smothering her with opinions Oh, their inflated egos gag me quick my dear muse, deviate while we can
The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables
10 lines 40 w/c
Halloween lights are up around the window giving the cobwebs an eerie glow. No village on the landing because I’m worried about it being bumped by accident shuffling things down to the garage for the moving sale. The other thing is they’re securely wrapped already, not in the mood to add more work. The village in the dining room was up, I only changed the lighting color, picked up the snow blanket, laid down the moss and got out the pumpkins and witches. My witches in front of the fireplace weren’t boxed so they’re in need of boxes after Halloween. Just in case you’re wondering Halloween is 39 days away.
“Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing,— For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and caldron bubble.” ― William Shakespeare
On a positive note for getting things done for our move, I packed up 12 huge boxes, 6 for each granddaughter in Maine. Bedding, dishes and cookware that I’m sure they’ll be able to use. We’ve decided to deliver them personally. So we’re doing a quick road trip and going to see my son John while we’re there. I’m looking forward to seeing them all. I haven’t seen Mik in two and a half years, Cait in a year and quarter, and John in 10 months.
(of something regarded as unpleasant) continuing without pause or interruption.
Consequences Holding her beloved mirror in hand the young woman studies her lost love. Her smoldering eyes peering barely hidden behind her lush lashes and ruby red lips in a brief shy smile. As she watches him with their son walking hand in hand toward their home. Her hand trembles slightly, a tear drop falls for this living forever isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Yet the young woman thought she could handle it never considering how desolate eternity could be without her love, her child. She sighs deeply knowing, another tear falls In her heart, the choice was right though the price was high.
The choice made at the time didn’t consider the incessant ramifications of living forever. I thought of how I would feel if the opportunity arose guaranteeing their health and happiness in exchange for my soul, could I do it as I wrote this Halloween poem. I know faced with assuring they’re healthy and happy once doesn’t stop… oh wait but they’ll be dead and I’m still living. That incessant detail isn’t forefront because we want the best for our loved ones.
“Incessant smiling is one of the deadly tools used by someone whose intent is to make others cry.”― Michael Bassey Johnson
“Writing is my passion, expression and an incessant obsession.” ― Pushpa Rana
“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”~ Joe Lewis
Life happens if only it would happen the way we need it too be than the word would lose some of its potency as an adverb no one or nothing more besides; solely or exclusively. Adjectively, it may have a little value because it’s alone of its or their kind; single or solitary. If the English language isn’t confusing only means enough except that; but for the fact that. Sometimes I think our ancestors had better communication than us with their drawings and limited vocabulary.
Saying I love you Is not the words I want to hear from you It’s not that I want you Not to say, but if you only knew How easy it would be to show me how you feel More than words is all you have to do to make it real Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me ‘Cause I’d already know What would you do if my heart was torn in two More than words to show you feel That your love for me is real What would you say if I took those words away Then you couldn’t make things new Just by saying I love you
More than words La di da, da di da, di dai dai da
Now I’ve tried to talk to you and make you understand All you have to do is close your eyes And just reach out your hands and touch me Hold me close don’t ever let me go More than words is all I ever needed you to show Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me ‘Cause I’d already know
What would you do if my heart was torn in two More than words to show you feel That your love for me is real What would you say if I took those words away Then you couldn’t make things new Just by saying I love you
La di da, da di da, di dai dai da More than words La di da, da di da, di dai dai da More than words La di da, da di da La di da, da di da, more than words La di da, da di da, di dai dai da La di da, da di da, more than words (oh uh uh uh) More than words
A weathered, crumbling, old two storied barn on the edge of town Barely noticed it was just one of many buildings all run down Two old posts hold a rusty old chain with what was left of a sign Next to the road, a grove of overgrown, neglected black pine Only one night of the year, there’s evidence something evil goes on Even the old owl is silent, hidden in the pine, patiently waiting for dawn The few towns’ people left lock their doors, put down their shades Covering their ears until the screeches of agonizing pain fade In the morning light, the elders look for survivors of the demon fest The lucky ones still able to moan will be medically assessed The undertaker will deliver the dead, to the graveyard Waiting for elders to begin a mournful service of fond regard The owl howls at closing, grateful to be among that survived Until next year, all will avoid the old barn where the demons reside.
Memento Memento, created by Emily Romano is a poem about a holiday or an anniversary, consisting of two stanzas as follows: the syllable count should be 8 beats for line one; 6 beats for line two; and two beats for line three. This is repeated twice for each stanza. The rhyme scheme is: a/b/c/a/b/c for each of the two stanzas.
Thought I would give one a try just for fun. And since Halloween is on my brain. I’ve been thinking a lot about our quandary to decorate or not. Do I expect trick or treaters? Probably, the same children in the neighborhood since they already run everywhere in our development. I’ve crossed paths numerous times and we always maintain social distance. I could simply set a filled dish on the steps for them. Some how I don’t see the trunk or treats at the school happening this year. The majority of our schools are distance learning.
Halloween, a ghoulish delight goblins and fairies join so glad to partake in whatever fright without flipping a coin you cad!
“One need not be a chamber to be haunted. One need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place.” ~ Emily Dickinson
Letter-c and custard
Three weeks have come and gone without a word from the doctor. Should I safely assume no news is good news on the biopsies done on the polyps? So I logged into the online portal that seems to be the methodology of the medical field these days, nothing was listed in my test results there either. Why is it so hard for communication channels to work as efficiently as their billing channel does?
Fall is approaching and with it comes the drying of herbs or freezing them for future use. I can’t freeze this year so I will be drying a slew to take with me.
I looked in the cupboard and I noted I have 8 cans of pumpkin on hand. I don’t feel like a pie or bread but then I remembered in the cancer fighting cookbook a recipe for pumpkin custard. Now that sounds divine.
Preheat oven 325
1 cup canned pumpkin, 1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon of sea salt, and ground ginger, 1/4 teaspoon of ground cloves, allspice, nutmeg. 2 eggs, 2 tablespoons of maple syrup. She indicates dark is better. 1 tablespoon of molasses. 1 teaspoon of vanilla. I cup of organic milk or coconut milk. I didn’t have either so I used 1 cup of vanilla almond milk.
Combine pumpkin, cinnamon, ginger,cloves,allspice and nutmeg in large bowl. In a smaller bowl beat the eggs lightly, then add the maple syrup, molasses,vanilla, and milk. Blend together then whisk into pumpkin mixture until thoroughly combined.
Pour the mixture into 6 ramekins and place them inside a 13″x 9″ pan or whatever pan you have that has at least 3 inch sides so the water doesn’t spill when you put it and pull it from the oven. Add 2 inches of hot water around the ramekins and carefully transfer pan to oven. Bake 45 -55 minutes. Test with a knife to make sure it comes out clean. Serve warm or cold. So good! ❤ Your family will love you for it.
This recipe belongs to Rebecca Katz from the Cancer Fighting Kitchen.
“There are horrors beyond life’s edge that we do not suspect, and once in a while man’s evil prying calls them just within our range.~ H.P. Lovecraft
More violence and more covid-19
6,132,074 in the United States. deceased in the United States 186,173
confirmed cases: New Jersey: 192,973 Maine: 4,632 Virginia 124, 779, Nevada 70,474 , Massachusetts 129, 596
Looks like it’s safer still to live in Maine but unfortunately, they don’t have the medical I require available without long trips to Boston.
If I could have my hair any color for 24 hours, what color would I choose?
I had the electric blue for more than 24 hours, I loved it. But then I’ve had so many hair colors over the years thanks to my awesome friend and hair stylist.The typical colors of auburn, brunette, blonde after chemo stole my hair color. My hair came back in snow white. All of my natural color was gone. So then I tried, Royal blue,turquoise, pink, eggplant, green, red, orange, black and blue together, black and green together, purple, silver with red tips, I love the freedom, I have to express myself.
Am I a Hitchcock fan? If so, what is my favorite movie?
Hitchcock fan oh yeah. My introduction was because my Gramma loved John Forysthe, he starred in an unusual Hitchcock The Trouble with Harry. It wasn’t all that suspenseful, the setting isn’t busy, and the story is unusually quaint but she loved it and I watched it with her.
My second favorite is I Confess. the film stars Montgomery Clift in the leading role as a priest who’s wrongly suspected of murder. I Confess puts the ethics of privacy of the church on the stand, which ultimately results in showing the oath of silence in a new light. Which at the time was novel.
My third favorite is Spellbound. Spellbound is a twisting and turning suspense thriller from Alfred Hitchcock that nearly reaches the heights of his greatest works. Ingrid Bergman and Gregory Peck star in the film and both give excellent performances.
And finally, you can’t be a Hitchcock without the Birds. Why would anyone want to make a movie about Birds? I love birds but there are lots of people who hate birds. That’s due to a phenomenon known as ornithophobia — the fear of birds — and Hitchcock understood better than anyone how to tap into it. According to google to The Birds is one of Hitchcock’s most iconic works and has inspired countless spoofs and parodies over the years. For as silly as a swarm of birds inexplicably attacking people may seem to some, the film speaks more broadly to base human fears about how fragile our sense of security in the world actually is. The delicate balance of our daily routines could unravel and disrupt our lives forever — a horrifying theme indeed. The Birds is a multi-layered horror thriller from the master whose weighty themes cut beneath its story’s strange and frightening surface.
Do I decorate for Autumn/Halloween and will it be affected by this year’s craziness?
I’m the house in the neighborhood that people come to see what I’ve done inside and out each year. I decorate because I love Halloween and how festive or scary I make it depends on my mood more than anything. I love creating the villages each year, I takes lots of pictures so I don’t repeat the set-up.
This year I have more than covid weighing on me. We’re moving and unpacking all the decorations and setting up draws away from what I need to be focusing on. But on the other hand I love how it feels in here with everything up and this is going to be last opportunity in this house. I’m going back and forth on this.
Today’s theme is “create a character.” Create an interesting character and describe him or her? Tell us a little something about your character. Share a story, a poem, a photo, a drawing, some music, or whatever you wish to share about the character you created.
Have you ever wondered what a pumpkin might think about his role after being picked at harvest? I chose to write from the pumpkin’s s point of view. His wanting to be part of the celebration of Halloween.
Big or, little each a different one,
Pick me; pick me, I hope
From one to the next, the excited children run.
The unlucky gourds left behind mope.
Yay, I’m the pumpkin a child chose.
I think golly what kind of a face will I be?
So much better than being left for the crows
Will it be happy or scary? I can’t wait to see,
what the children will create with their knife.
Once a simple pumpkin in the field
Now it’s my moment to come to life.
As a jack o lantern, my true glory revealed
as I shine boldly from my special place.
creating the magic of Halloween night.
I am radiant in my chosen state of grace,
happy to have a Jack o Lantern’s exclusive right.
I wrote a poem for my grandchildren. My intent is to publish it as a children’s book . I have some fun sketches drawn to go with the different lines.
As a child my mother raked the brush through my fine hair with a fury ripping loose all the snarled messes free. You would think my hair would learn not to snarl but along the back of my neck all these years later it still does.
There are moments when I brushed death with a tantalizing tease that left behind scars. Some say the scars indicate a life well lived and others say they’re a badge of courage but sometimes I see them as reminders of how stupid and careless I once was.
Some I’ve tried to brush out of sight with makeup to no avail because our bodies radiate a lot of heat. Some I’ve chosen to grow my hair differently which involves another brush activity to my day. And then there are the scars no matter what brush is involved they simply want to show everyone they’re an indication of survival.
Oddly enough yesterday morning there was a spot on my neck that had become red and irritated, I tried brushing it with alcohol to cleanse it and if it was simply a zit dry it out. But that didn’t work so I made a baking soda paste and applied that to it with one of my eyeliner brushes hoping to draw whatever was irritating my skin.
Late yesterday, I brushed my hand across my neck absentmindedly and something sharp pricked my pinky finger. I went to the bathroom of mirrors to look at what could possibly be sharp. Surprise, it was a piece of glass that had finally worked its way out after twenty one years.
You’re probably thinking how the hell does she know how long ago. In October of 1989, I hit a moose with my 1989 Monte Carlo. That was one of my near brushes with death. I have numerous scars on my neck and chest from the windshield. This red area with the sharp point was right smack in the middle of one those scars on my neck. I’m glad I was able to extract the glass rest of the way with tweezers and today there’s no pain. I think carrying it around 21 years was enough.
Now if you’re wondering why I said bathroom of mirrors, that’s exactly what we have. It’s an oddity that we acquired with our stone house that I’m going to miss immensely when we move. I can adjust my clothes, check my hair to make sure I didn’t miss a spot with my brush. And the other bonus, its a great deterrent for those days when I simply want to mindless binge. It shows everything with all the mirrors, even on the back of the door. There’s nothing hidden in that room of reflection.
At Halloween, with my twisted humor adds jiggly eyes everywhere to add to the creep factor, not only are you seeing way too much of yourself but so are the eyes. 🙂
Speaking of Halloween, it’s only 70 days away. My favorite holiday, our 12th wedding anniversary. This song inspired our costume on our 10th anniversary.
Did I remember to tell you about our 10th, we went on a riverboat cruise Halloween costume party on the Mississippi River with friends that live in the St. Louis area. I went as Marie Laveau and my hubby went as Handsome Jack. I can do her cackle mighty fine.
“She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible.
She walked with the Universe on her shoulders and made it look like a pair of wings.” ― Ariana Dancu
I posted my entry in the NaNoPrep a few minutes ago for today and the date hit home. There are only eleven days left in this month and November is here. I have so much work left to get myself ready to do the 50,000-word challenge. 1667 words a day. I’ve decided to block out every morning for 3 and hours and write no matter what. Then get what I need to do otherwise for the Airbnb part of my life and then if I have more writing I can go back to it. A pot of coffee and 5 CDs of dark classical music playing my muse and Narda should be happy. Yes, that’s witchy’s name. Someday, I’ll tell you her story but for now, I need to get back to scene building.
If I’m feeling stagnated I do have lots of inspiration surrounding me. Normally, I take everything down the first week of November we’ll see how that goes this year. I may have Halloween, Thanksgiving decorations joining my Christmas.
My Muse Asks Why?
Why does her headstone sit alone?
There must be more to this unresolved story
as to why a crooked cross headstone
is not restored to its former glory.
Sadly, it sits neglected in a leaf-strewn meadow.
How lonely it must feel under the fog-shrouded moon
with those tall trees casting an eerie shadow.
Hardly a place for families come to commune
They are all resting in such a lonely place.
One stone indicates a family man but
another indicates nothing, was there a family disgrace?
If only the spirits would help solve this mystery
why several names share the same stone.
I’m sure there must be an interesting history
As to why the neglected headstone sits all alone
My character Mairin in the story knows why, but she’s not ready to say. Though I will give you one itty bitty clue the black glove plays an integral part.
If you lived closer I’d say come join us at our annual Halloween costume event. This year it is on Saturday, October 28th. The house is decorated to the nines and most of the baking is done. I have a good friend coming on Wednesday and together we’ll finish the last minute stuff.
A hunter’s moon illuminates the abandoned old house with
traces of white billowy clouds linger overhead.
The malevolent glowing pumpkin sits on the tree stump
with a lurking expression if seen anyone would dread.
Raven shudders her wings and hesitantly opens her beak but
not a sound could she make to warn Poe of what was ahead.
Before that fateful Halloween night that changed it all
Raven had spoken with Poe, trying to warn him.
Poe said, never more and locked Raven in the great hall.
The witch and her glowing pumpkin came in a hurry
creating such a fury, there was no one but raven to recall.
What it was like before the witch cast her spell only
now her vindictive pumpkin returns each year.
Making sure that ghosts do her evil bidding and
confident the scared raven will not interfere.
The evil pumpkin savors the feeling of power
knowing his helpless victims would soon be near.
Raven shudders her wings and bravely opens her beak
Poe, Poe, can you hear me, remember your Lenore.
The pumpkin eyes flared as he heard Raven speak
Poe, Poe, hear me, I am her, the one you adore
At first, Poe spoke in a whisper then in a roar
Raven, Raven, Lenore, I love you forever more!
A tribute to one of my favorite poets, Edgar Allen Poe.