Fall brings Full Moon
Raggedy Ann keeps distance
Halloween is here
Be smart … stay safe!
Happy Halloween
Photos: Dwight L. Roth
Halloween
full moon
Beware the Troll
Beware of the long-haired Old Troll who lives under the bridge, and frightens Trick or Treaters as they cross on Halloween night. Still feeling sore from Big Billy Goat’s but in the butt, he hides away picking on little children when their candy bags are full. As they trip trap across his bridge on the their way home, he rises from the shadows and snatches their candy. He does not care that they run off crying all the way home. Being an old mumble grumble troll, it will take more than candy to sweeten him up. So warn your children on Halloween night to stay away from Sleep Hollow, and the Old Trolls bridge, if they want to keep their sweets!
Hunter’s full moon shines
Ghosts and Goblins come knocking
Watch out for the Troll
Frank at d’Verse told us to write a Halloween Haibun. He said we could even write a fiction prose to go with it. So that is what I did. One for the Kiddos young and old. Enjoy!
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com Click on the Mr. Linkey box to read more…
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
All is Lost
‘Twas with storm and October gale she ripped the sail
Shredded last threads flapping / faceless flag without stripes
Into the gale / fearless calm / face of moon-ash-pale
Fate assured / as many feared the Orca axed rock’s sharp scrape
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Tsumami waves… his pall bearers strong / buried him deep
neath igneous rocks, casket solid, lasting a thousand years
Pale moon shredding tears / hidden from all in view’s keep
Fate assured / guiding light / riding gears of hopeless fears
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Now each October 31st she walks / cold quartz beneath her feet
Pale Moon brightly shines / smiles / mist kissing her ashen face
This night her last walk / gang plank of sand / calls from the deep
Assured fate / drawn to his siren song / moon follows her last trace
Waves wash the chalkboard clean….
Spectors walk hand in hand in the full moon’s light….
Painting: Dwight L. Roth
Today at d’Verse, Lucy is the guest host and asked us to write a dark ballad. October has many aspects of this ending with Halloween. I am not into murder, blood, or gore, so I wrote my ballad about a salor lost in a storm and his love who cannot take the loss any longer! Hope you enjoy it along with my painting that I entitled “All is Lost”.
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com Then click the Mr. Linkey box to read some of the other poets poems.
Chasing High Tide
There is nothing more beautiful than full moon light riding on ocean waves. As fall comes on, and tourists crawl back into their cocoons, the lunar cycle continues with two full moons in the month of October. The Harvest Moon comes on the first and the Blue Moon comes on the thirty-first.
Full Moon surfs high tide
crashing on glistening wet sand
Coconut Palms sway
Tonight at d”Verse Frank Tassone asked us to write our Monday Haibun using the moon as our prompt. Two full moons are happening this year in the month of October. I took two of my paintings and changed them into black and white for effect.
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com Click on the Mr. Linkey box and read some of the other poet’s work as well.
Hoof-beats
A Dunkard Brethren church once sat at the top of the ridge overlooking Willow Run. Now in crumbles of brick and mortar, flowering honeysuckle invite bees to commune at their cups of sweetness. Blacksnakes slither through the rubble looking for a toad or rat residing there.
It was in this church where itinerant preachers on horseback brought fiery brimstone, forgiveness, and grace to the faithful who gathered. Souls were saved and dunked all the way under in Willow Run.
On the hillside the full moon reflects off of a few protruding graveyard stones. Most have long since been overgrown and broken. The names on the stones kiss the ground, above the deceased as “In their dreams they sleep with the moon.”
Tales are told by the ancients, who still live nearby, that at midnight’s full moon rise, horses pounding hooves echo through the night!
Today at d’Verse, Merril introduce a prosery prompt. This is a short story of no more than 144 words that can be flash fiction, true, or far out imaginary. It must include a random line from a poem that she shared with us. Her line was from a Mary Oliver poem, (Death at Wind River),“In their dreams they sleep with the moon.” My story is flash fiction, based on a little church from my home town. My two brothers and I visited there two years ago, and I took a bunch of photos. These are a couple of photos from there. The story is made up.
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Unfinished
This painting caused me great frustration in getting the turtle to look right in the sand. As a result it remained unfinished. Finally, I simply redid the painting, keeping the moon and changing the scene from the beach to the mountains. I like the way it turned out. A friend that I work with decided he wanted it, so now it has a good home.
Some things in life don’t
turn out the way you had planned
Time to change the scene
Rethink what is important
Recreate something you love
Paintings: Dwight l. Roth
*The turtle lies at the point where the stream turns!
Nightmare Scream
Everyone said the house was haunted. No one lived there since Jim was found hanging in the back bedroom. He came home from a trip to Atlanta and was told by the sheriff that his wife had been murdered by her ex-husband. Weeks later, Jim just couldn’t face life any longer without his one true love.
When George Scott, his neighbor down the hill found him, he immediately called the Sheriff. He met him at the end of the lane, and the two of them went up to the house. The door creaked as they went in and found the chair lying there and the rope dangling from the closet, but Jim was nowhere to be found!
On full moon nights, some say they see movements in the window. Others say they see Jim standing there, as “his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream!”
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Tonight we are writing Prosery at d”Verse. Bjorn asked us to write a prose piece of exactly 144 words, that includes this line from Maya Angelou’s Poem …Caged Bird Sings: …his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream…
Join us at: https://dversepoets.com
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Night Fliers
Sixty years ago, when I was twelve, we loved to go sledding in the moonlight. The bright full moon shone down on us as we sailed down the hill, past the mail boxes, on our sleds. All the neighbor kids joined in for a fun evening in the cold. Those were great times.
Mem’ries of snowfall
Bright Wolf Moon shines down on us
Sliding down the hill
Photo: from our family album
Frank Tassone asked us to write a Haikai poem that alludes to the Wolf Moon in January.
Frozen Memories
Snow covers the swing
Sweet memories of summer
left frozen in time
Cold December Moon shines full
Moonbeams dance on snow
Photo: Dwight L. Roth
Frank Tassone reminded us that the Cold December Moon will shine full this coming week, on the twelfth. He asked us to write a Haikai poem that included the Cold December Moon.
Dust Bowl Moon
The full moon crept over the treeless plain. John Clark sat on his broken porch step and watched it rise. Clouds left eerie shadows across the yard. It was All Hallow’s Eve. There was no thought of candy or spooks and goblins.
The dry Oklahoma winds had blown away much of the topsoil. The wheat, this year, dried up in the fields. Last year, it was the swarm of grasshoppers that ate every green thing in sight.These fields were once covered with tall grasses and ranging bison. Now they were lifeless and dusty as a desert. “This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence.”
John had no choice, but to load his wife and four children in his old Model T Ford, and travel West. They took what they could, hoping to make it to California before the Snow arrived in the mountains.
Dust Bowl Photo: Saturday Evening Post
Bjorn at d’Verse asked us to write a prose piece of not more than 144 words. He took a line from a Louise Gluck poem, which we had to include in our writing. It was also to include the holiday theme of All Hallow’s Eve and Halloween. It was, “This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence.” I attempted to apply this line to the sad times of the Dust Bowl.
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