The Halloween Masquerade Ball

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The Halloween Masquerade Ball

 

The way the silk hugs your every curve

the contours of your body, sublime, every swerve

I could not help but notice as you walked in the grand hall

Dressed to impress at the Count’s Halloween ball

 

I watched you slowly saunter

down the marble grand symmetrical stairs

Every eye in the place, upon you a fixed steer

But as you stood by the inglenook above the stone mantel

 

Lite by the candles adorning each side

No reflection in the mirror… I was assuredly mystified 

The Harlequin smiled as he took your hand, gave a kiss

Upon the back of you dainty, slender sweet wrist

 

Him I could see holding your hand

And you by his side, both, you both stand.

And yet in the mirror, I can see only me!

 

In fact

 

There are scores of guests here, yet NO reflections I see

framed in the large mirror, only one…

 

Tis me.

 

Po.

Halloween poem iiPoWhat a Ball.

◄ The Music Box

Zee Count’s masquerade ball ►

Comments

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Vautaw

Fri 30th Oct 2020 04:25

Great visual and mysterious poem that reads like the beginning of a fascinating story. Love it. Write on! 🖤

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Paul Sayer

Thu 29th Oct 2020 18:03

Hello Trevor.
I must tell you that I have decided to spend far more time recording my poetry. Seeing your comments have triggered my desire to ‘talk’ my walk all the more.

I have a reasonably strong Norfolk dialect, which I have tended to keep in check.

However, that is changing to the extent that I now fully intend to embrace it far more here at WOL and elsewhere from here on in.

I have every intention of writing my memoirs; I have certainly led a very normal every day, ‘Paranormal’ life.

I am thinking more and more that I will not only write down the extraordinary events in my life to date; I will also narrate it and place it on record. (Mp3, more like).

Some of the facts are beyond belief and certainly beyond most peoples religious beliefs, comprehension and or understanding.

I have served countless churches and preached from pulpits giving evidence of life after death and propounding the philosophy of a life hereafter for many a year.

Always preaching to the converted seemed a waste of time.

So my church is now the street, and before Covid 19 arrived, pubs, clubs, theatres, Masonic lodges, Quaker,s Halls, etc. and now! To suite Gods great computer... My magnetic ink flows across the internet.

I am a secret lurker of your work Trevor. Your poetry is always on point.

Thanks again for commenting.

Paul.

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trevor homer

Thu 29th Oct 2020 14:13

Hello Paul Hope all's well.
I thought it time to devote some attention to your work, although I have to say I tend to steer clear of critiquing other peoples writing I have been trying to fathom you out as a poet. What I conclude is that you have something very important in the world of writing; and that is an inimitable voice. I'm not saying I enjoy all that I hear, but it is recognisably yours, and that is no mean feat. Their is a mystical quality to you which has been evident from my earliest encounter, and your comments on my work, for which I thank you.
Keep lifting the veil. Regards Trevor

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Paul Sayer

Wed 28th Oct 2020 20:03

Stephan and J.D.

Creeping up on me like that.

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Paul Sayer

Wed 28th Oct 2020 20:02

No but yes but P.

the ink barely dry
another dip
lets see

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Philipos

Wed 28th Oct 2020 19:57



Oooh-er Paul, is there a part 2, where she suddenly creeps up behind you?

🎃

P

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