For Seaside Heights

The Heights was brought to its knees

The Jet crashed into the sea

No flumes could contain the tides

The land has drowned

Fire burns on water

Sand buries the dead

Ghosts

wander splintered boards

searching for their lost homes

Carousel horses

ripped loose from their moorings

stampede down the streets

wild and spooked

Like a forgotten ferris wheel

minds whirl out memories

spinning round and round 

with nowhere to go.

Hope everyone is faring OK after Sandy. We're fine here but my mother-in-law had to evacuate her home in Lavallette, NJ and has no idea if it's still standing or not. Lavallette is right down the road from Seaside Heights, which, you may have seen on the news, is completely devastated. Our family has been going to the boardwalk there for years, so it's been very eerie and sad.

Seaside Height Amusement park is in ruins after Hurricane Sandy made landfall, Seaside Heights, New Jersey, Oct. 30, 2012.

Courtesy Tim Husar and Jan Humphreys

Jet Star roller coaster hanging into the Atlantic Ocean in NJ (via NBC4)

Autumn Embrace

© Teresa Perin

Watching the October sunsets

Waltzing under autumn sky

You and I

Green leaves rust, turn to dust

Let the summer die

Summer's new, searing yellow

Autumn's rich, mellow.

Disregarding rain and puddles

We stay warm despite the cold

Let's grow old

Storms will blow, come and go

As our story's told

We'll keep dancing, never rend

As we dip and bend.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Mini Challenge, Stanza Form

The Mag, Mag 141

dVerse Poets Pub, Open Link Night 68

Theme Thursday, Stormy

The Shadow

The more you keep it down the more it grows

It thrives in places where there is no light

The more you try to hide the more it knows

It taunts you when you lie awake at night

You never know when it may want to play

A game of cat and mouse inside your head

And if you try to make it go away

The longer it will stay with you instead

It visits you in dreams so dark and deep

In wishes and in secrets long rejected

The beast will keep on eating you alive

Until you hold it, make it feel protected

For once you see the shadow face to face

You see that it's yourself you must embrace.

submitted for Poets United, Poetry Pantry 121

The Shadow - Steven.Kenny

Willow Manor Ball!

It's that time of year again! The Willow Manor Ball! I was a tad worried I wouldn't make it due to Frankenstorm heading our way on the East coast, but after stocking up on water, dog food, and TP, I finally was able to head out the door! I'm not going to allow a little National Disaster to dampen my party spirit! 

After much deliberation, I decided that since all men are dogs, I may as well take my poodle as my date! Let me introduce Sir Soni B. He's an older gentleman and quite a lovely date. He looks dashing in a tux and is already comfortable in tails! 

My gown this year is vintage Dior. I'm so pleased that the green sequins offset the absinthe that Tess is serving this year. What a lucky coincidence! 

I plan to dance the night away, enjoy a beautiful brunch, and then return home to see what havoc Mother Nature has wrought. Adieu!

"Junon" dress, fall/winter 1949–50 Christian Dior (French, 1905–1957); Christian Dior Haute Couture (French, founded 1947) Pale-blue silk net embroidered with iridescent blue, green, and rust sequins

What a gentleman!

 Thanks again to Tess at Life at Willow Manor for hosting this exquisite event!

Migraine Art

Been really struggling with daily migraines for the past week or so, and the usual preventives and rescue meds aren't doing the trick so much. Very frustrating. Difficult to focus on reading or computer related activities with demons twisting your optic nerves. 

Anyway, I did manage to put together this piece expressing my mood of late. Thanks to Micael C. for his idea of using print pages for the background, which I blatantly stole from a favorite painting of his that's hanging in my art room.

Wolf

image source

Even a killer needs rest

Hunting down prey is tiring

Tearing flesh from bone, wearying

The grip tightening around the neck as

the pulse quickens, rising

in a frenzied crescendo

to its peak,

crashing

releasing

It’s an act of love

And I,

spent and sated,

sleep.

Submitted for PoetsUnited, Wonder??? Wednesday: Wolf