Group Poem XIV
Re: Group Poem XIV
The Ghost
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
Ars longa, vita brevis
Re: Group Poem XIV
The Ghost
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
-
- Great Grand Panjandrum
- Posts: 3333
- Joined: Wed Jan 03, 2007 12:41 pm
- Location: RUSTON, LA
- Contact:
- Slava
- Great Grand Panjandrum
- Posts: 8170
- Joined: Thu Sep 28, 2006 9:31 am
- Location: Finger Lakes, NY
Re: Group Poem XIV
That's all, I do believe. Another good one, worthy of a round of applause.ONWARD! I can't wait to see what happens next. The suspense is killing me!
Life is like playing chess with chessmen who each have thoughts and feelings and motives of their own.
-
- Great Grand Panjandrum
- Posts: 3333
- Joined: Wed Jan 03, 2007 12:41 pm
- Location: RUSTON, LA
- Contact:
Re: Group Poem XIV
Here's Your Encore, Perry, following a reprise of the original:
The Ghost
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
The Ghost
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
Ars longa, vita brevis
Re: Group Poem XIV
The Ghost
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
I comprehended what the phantom said: "You're 'late'!"
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
I comprehended what the phantom said: "You're 'late'!"
Re: Group Poem XIV
The Ghost
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
I comprehended what the phantom said: "You're 'late'!"
“Ah, yes!” I said, then quietly removed my shawl.
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
I comprehended what the phantom said: "You're 'late'!"
“Ah, yes!” I said, then quietly removed my shawl.
Ars longa, vita brevis
Re: Group Poem XIV
The Ghost
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
I comprehended what the phantom said: "You're 'late'!"
“Ah, yes!” I said, then quietly removed my shawl.
This revelation made me welcome after all.
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
I comprehended what the phantom said: "You're 'late'!"
“Ah, yes!” I said, then quietly removed my shawl.
This revelation made me welcome after all.
Re: Group Poem XIV
The Ghost
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
I comprehended what the phantom said: "You're 'late'!"
“Ah, yes!” I said, then quietly removed my shawl.
This revelation made me welcome after all
Death's tender call.
While strolling through a graveyard on a moonless night
I saw an apparition of transparent light.
Beside a headstone was a strange ethereal head
With tomb-like looks, yet not irrevocably dead
"Hi there", I said.
"You must not venture through this place!" the visage cried.
"I have no necrophilic motive", I replied,
Hoping—nay, praying—that the specter felt the same.
It glared, and told me to substantiate my claim
Or die in shame.
So I explained the cause of my nocturnal walk:
My melancholy spirit made me seek the dark.
A lambent arm appeared. "Look thither", howled the ghost,
At all the souls that call this cemetery host.
Dude, you'd be toast!"
“Ill bread? Poor Yorick never uttered words so vile!”
My deft paronomasia induced a smile,
And then, “I hope your legs are quicker than your wit.”
But how could evanescent shades force me to quit
This haunted skit?
"Is it Walpurgis Night?" I scoffed. "Or Halloween?
An abracadabra or a candy routine?"
Then—horror! From a nearby grave, up flew the stone,
A porphyritic missile, with this name thereon:
My very own!
It's been a thousand years since first I knew my fate.
I comprehended what the phantom said: "You're 'late'!"
“Ah, yes!” I said, then quietly removed my shawl.
This revelation made me welcome after all
Death's tender call.
Ars longa, vita brevis
Re: Group Poem XIV
That's finally it, folks! Glad you all enjoyed it.
The moral of this macabre tale is: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
The moral of this macabre tale is: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
- Slava
- Great Grand Panjandrum
- Posts: 8170
- Joined: Thu Sep 28, 2006 9:31 am
- Location: Finger Lakes, NY
Re: Group Poem XIV
Somehow, a porphyritic missile does not strike me as tender. Nonetheless, a very nice epilogue. Thank you muchly, Gentlemen.
Life is like playing chess with chessmen who each have thoughts and feelings and motives of their own.
-
- Great Grand Panjandrum
- Posts: 3333
- Joined: Wed Jan 03, 2007 12:41 pm
- Location: RUSTON, LA
- Contact:
Re: Group Poem XIV
Indeed! Were I site admin, I would give it a link of its own at the top of the menu! Thanx guys!
pl
- Slava
- Great Grand Panjandrum
- Posts: 8170
- Joined: Thu Sep 28, 2006 9:31 am
- Location: Finger Lakes, NY
Re: Group Poem XIV
Has there been one for American Thanksgiving? As we can't look things up anymore, it's hard to tell.
It would be nice if we could urge our poets on early. Then, should the desire strike, we could read the result out loud to the gathered crowd on the day itself. Hint, hint.
It would be nice if we could urge our poets on early. Then, should the desire strike, we could read the result out loud to the gathered crowd on the day itself. Hint, hint.
Life is like playing chess with chessmen who each have thoughts and feelings and motives of their own.
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