A Candelabra Sprite waits for someone to light her fire ...
An old biker pushing his luck
In Nevada by trouble was struck
For clearly altho'
He'd no need for the doe
He just couldn't pass up a buck
And the ambulance drivers all said
Such gambling should leave him quite dead
But he cheated to win
Though it cost him some skin
By landing on his rock-hard head
-- Dale Neibaur, 9/30/05
Alone in the dark forest lane
Crept unfortunate Icabod Crane.
When a stamp of a hoof
Sent his heart through the roof,
it sealed both his fate and his fame.
-- Marcus Vincent, 10/4/05
Old fork-antlered Herne lies in wait,
The road reaching for sunset as bait.
He appears then like magic
In a ploy for ends tragic
And survival is cast upon fate.
-- Steve Argyle, 10/5/05
Ode for a love-sick Orc
Cascading golden glint curls
round shy nape teasing unfurl.
She flashes elf blade!
Such error you've made!
Then she lops of your head with a twirl.
-- Marcus Vincent, 10/11/05
There's so much of real terror in life,
With bombings and murder and strife,
The legend'ry horrors
Are thought of as snorers;
In small children's stories they're rife.
-- Steve Argyle, 10/13/05
The wizened, decrepit old hag
Gently dabbed at her lips with a rag.
Then the sour old crone
Picked at the last bone,
And took your heart home in a bag.
-- Steve Argyle, 10/13/05
You may think its best to throw rocks,
Or prod foes with electrical shocks.
But they cannot resist
When you get down right pissed
And bombard them with ripe smelly socks!
-- Marcus Vincent, 10/18/05
(Try saying the last 3 words as fast as you can - then get a friend to untie your tongue)
I once met a man of no hope
For he was a tattered ol’ Lycanthrope
His mood was quite foul
He wouldn’t even howl
For at the full moon he’d just mope
-- Adam Argyle, 10/18/05
Grim Thomas Thinshanks with rattles and groans
Split open his grave mound and shook out his bones.
‘Twas Halloween night
And he owed a fright
To Molly who’d planted him cold ‘neath the stones.
He sneezed out some grave mould and grinned very slow
And slammed down the lid of his coffin below.
Then capered in glee
As he set out to see
How Molly would deal with her homecoming beaux.
But Molly appeared not a whit discomposed
When in through the door lurched her love decomposed.
“Why Tommy! Dear Grue
I’ve been expecting you.”
And she whistled and winked as the front door she closed.
On All-Hallows morn though it seemed a bit odd
Tom’s mound had collapsed beneath its fresh sod.
And Molly’s ten dogs
Were sleeping like logs
On bone bits all pockmarked and thoroughly gnawed.
-- Dale Neibaur, 10/28/05
An innocent, laughing young child
Ran nimbly through bullrushes wild.
But, alas, 'neath the bank
In a quaking pool rank,
Lurked the hag with a mort of bones piled.
-- Steve Argyle, 10/28/05 (Look her up!)
My corpse bride had wonderful pockets
with flaps lined with fur for her lockets.
With a flip and a grin,
She would tuck things right in,
Like her eyes when they're out of their sockets.
or maybe . . . .
Ode to the Gray Company (Dale, Steve and Marcus)
They once courted rosy red cheeks.
Dashing and heroically fleet!
They "hit-and-run loved" 'em,
Then scouted the next 'un,
But now they're just rusty old geeks.
-- Marcus Vincent, 10/31/05