Last week, I went to a local cafe for open mic night - planning to read some poetry. After a while, I noticed that the organizer was only having his musician friends perform. Between songs, I approached him.
"Excuse me, is this really an open mic?" I asked. "I brought some poetry."
He appeared slightly revolted. "We don't really do poetry here. Do you sing?"
He appeared slightly revolted. "We don't really do poetry here. Do you sing?"
Dude, gimme a karaoke machine and I'll belt out Barry Manilow's Copa Cabana. "No. I'm a lousy singer, but this is advertised for all artists. My poetry's pretty short." He didn't give me an answer, so I sat, embittered. One guitar-strumming cowboy after another sang about his long lost love. With the men on either side of me asking to see my poetry, though, my confidence soared.
Finally, after every musician had performed, the organizer told me, "You can do one really quick poem."
"Okay, sure." Then, for poets throughout the world (all three of us), I worked the room. "I get the feeling you're not much of a poetry crowd," I started, "so I'm about to change that. This first poem is called Halloween Erotica." There was cheering, and the cafe fell silent as I read the original here. [I've posted it several times over the years.] That experience motivated me to work on part II. Happy Pre-Hallow's Eve!
When darkness falls,
I'm at your door
To raid your stash
Then beg for more.
So hold it out
And let me see.
The big, long ones work best for me.
Don't tantalize with bits of bait
Drop it down!
I hate to wait!
It's been a year; I need my fix.
You give me treats
I'll show you tricks.
Stuff my bag
And make it last
I'm known to ravage hard and fast.
I've one rule, though.
Make no mistake.
If it's not wrapped
I won't partake
'Cuz safety first. Mom taught me right.
And I'll devour
throughout the night.
I'll stake my claim
On all your best
Then disappear
Just like the rest.
Don't fall asleep.
There's no reprieve.
I'll knock some more
Next Hallow's Eve.