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I am a sorcerer by trade,
Of grand distinguished lineage;
My father was Grand Master
Of the Order, such a privilege...
But I prefer to stay at home,
Practicing my magic--
I've not been well for two years
Since I lost my wife, how tragic!
A raven came to visit me,
In the bleak December:
He was a man turned to a bird--
He caused me to remember
That I had an obligation to
Stand up against the evil
Of sorcerers like Scarabus
In his castle so medieval...
We fought a duel of magic grim,
The old tyrant was bested,
And now I'm in my study again,
Quite refreshed and rested!
Tempus FugitiveOld Father Time slipped out the back door--
He kicked off his sandals and skipped to the shore
Of The Infinite Sea, on Eternal Vacation!
It boggled the minds and the imagination
When we all found out it was May Forever;
Never again would we see a December!
Love, After Hours...
They had no names; store mannequins seldom do...nor did this particular pair have faces; but that did not mean that they lacked identities or senses...
By day they stood in the clothing section of the department store--he in Men's Wear, she in Ladies' Wear, with the No Mannequins' Land of Shoes between them; but every night, after closing-time, they would hop off their pedestals and wander hand in hand through the store, avoiding the janitors, until they found a quiet spot where they could be alone together.
They never spoke, which was not surprising, having no mouths--their love needed none, it was a rapport unlike any we face-bound, mind-blocked, fleshly types could ever experience this side of Heaven...
Later in the night, after the last janitor went home, the two mannequins would run all over the department store, playing Hide and Seek or Tag; he kept trying to get her to ride the escalators with him, but she was afraid of those weird moving stairs...she did consent to him carrying
Ex Tempore...I hit "Submit" by accident
Just now, and I must now admit
That I have no idea what to write
So this poem's an awful fright
It's pouring off the pointy top
Of my poor head--I cannot stop
Typing down these random words
In a meter most absurd!
But at least I'm glad it rhymes
(which doesn't happen all the time)
Methinks it has a certain charm,
You all know that I mean no harm
If this doggerel should offend;
And on that note, I'll type THE END.
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