It’s Halloween

Just to get you in the spirit (so to speak)


Goblins, scarecrows, kids in sheets
Knocking on my door for treats
Begging for unhealthy sweets
I guess it’s Halloween

When the moon can be seen
And betwixt and between
A shadowy figure floats by
And the kids hear the scream
From something unseen
And they fear it’s a wild banshee’s cry

You act surprised
As the kids in disguise
Go door to door on your street
You hand out M&Ms
To each ghoul and his friends
When they call out to you “Trick or Treat”

And then late that night
When you’ve turned out their light
The real monster finally strikes
While the kids are all sleeping
Into their room it’s creeping
To steal all the candy it likes

And the morale of the story
Perhaps in allegory
Disregarding everything that’s said
It comes each Halloween
And often leaves unseen
That not all monsters live beneath their bed

Mdailey 10/31/08

No Socks?

One of my former co-workers dropped by to see me and made a comment about my lack of socks now that I was retired. We have a long history of trading jibes back and forth so I could not resist a poetic retort.

Me thinks that thou protests too much
Thou thinks of me as out of touch
Tis true that now I do not wear
A nylon or a cotton pair
No sock doth now adorn my feet
My toes have never felt so sweet
For now I dress as if unbound
I do not wear a button-down
No cloth is tied around my neck
To you I must appear a wreak
But know thee, yet my pants are short
To that I have no glib retort
The weather dresses me each day
No outside push gets in my way
For I've retired - am at the beach
Your jibes no longer have their reach
So socks be damned - I have no need
No dress code unto me impede
Better you should change your ways
In your own mirror you should gaze
Then try to live outside your box
And rid yourself of those darn socks

Mdailey 10/28/09

Behind the Scene at NPR

With appologies to Willie Nelson, I wrote this little parady based on a friends revelation from her new job at NPR.  It seems they use code to let the staff know someone is about to buy the farm.  this was a true e-mail (or so I was told).

Behind the Scene at NPR
(E-MAIL: “Dennis Hopper is on the roof”)

On the roof again
A code we send out every now and then
When someone’s life is almost near the end
We say that he is on the roof again
On the roof again
Let’s start writing bout our sickly friend
Who’s life has almost gone around the bend
A bio for who’s on the roof again

On the roof again
Like a band of writers, we check off the birthdays
Of our special friends
Insisting that their bio’s written our way
But today
He’s on the roof again
We’ve got a bio that we must amend
The life we live is writing bio’s open-end
In case somehow they’re off the roof again

On the roof again
As writers we must now attend
That bio that we have is really way too thin
And it can’t wait – he’s on the roof again

Mdailey 10/07/09

Carolina Snake

He was pencil thin and green, and staring up at me
Beady little eyes, intense as they can be
His head was raised two inches to get a better view
His length more than a foot long but nowhere near to two
He watched me as I walked by; all prepared to strike
I watched him as I walked by; there is not snake I like
The fact is he was harmless and tiny as can be
The fact is there are more of them than I’m prepared to see

Well, that’s my first encounter with a Carolina snake
I’ll keep my eyes wide open; there can be no snake mistake!

Mdailey 10/10/09

The Dreaded Stresshour

While traveling in the DC area last week, I remembered what I did not like about my former homestead.

Dinosaurs have come and gone
But one that ain’t gone yet
Is a special kind
I have in mind
That you all know I bet
He’s found, I swear
Just anywhere
There’s lots of wealth and power
I’ll take the blame
For this beast’s name
We’ll call it the Stresshour

Some people called him Rush before
But there’s no rush about him
He’s someone that you can’t ignore
Though some are sure to doubt him
He shows up almost every day
Most days from three to eight
He snarls traffic on your way
He’s the reason that you’re late

You never really see him
And he leaves no tracks behind
But you know it had to be him
For you recognize the signs
He’s there in glaring sunshine
He’s there in daytime showers
He’s there in every state of mind
He’s the dreaded old Stresshour

Me? I haven’t seen him
In really quite a while
I’ve moved to Carolina
I’ve got a new life style
But I took a trip up north last week
And my patience was worn down
The traffic moved at snail’s pace
I know he’s still around


Mdailey 10/07/09