And, Blessed Samhain to all who celebrate and honor the day.
I don’t believe I’ve shared this one previously. After writing this, I wrote a short story based on the same theme called, The Doughnut Murders. It’s a tad over 14,000 words, or I’d post it here on the blog. Of course, if anyone would enjoy reading it, just let me know and I can post it later this week. I figured this is a good Halloween-themed poem. 😉
HAUNTED, POISONED DOUGHNUT
Oh haunted, poisoned doughnut
You have found me at last.
You first went through all my friends
One by one by one
Until there were none
First you started with dizzy Fizzy
Oh how she was such a thin-lizzy
Prim and proper
And such a show stopper
Next there was business woman, Rita,
Who acted like such a Lolita
With her red stripper heels
And all those scandalous deals
Third there was Rose
Who thought she was so good at writing prose
Turns out it was her husband
Who wrote all those
One by one by one
You poisoned them
Then caught me in the end
I should have known better
Than to eat a doughnut
That appeared out of nowhere
And moved around from here to there
When there was no one else near
It was Vickie
Who killed us
Out of some sort of revenge
Just because we poisoned her
With a doughnut so round
We killed her dead
By a doughnut
Riddled with arsenic
Put up with her
Until we could no longer
Though our finicky
Did seek out revenge
Testing our strength
Against a doughnut
With icing glistening
Sweetly sugared orb so fine
She stole our husbands
Then our boyfriends
Even our children
Seemed her to defend
We got tired of her wicked games
So we poisoned her with a sweet eat
And OMG! It was so neat
When she ate that poisoned doughnut
Then fell head over feet
Onto the floor of my very home
Throw her in a bag did we
And deliver her to a watery new home
But alas did she get her payback
By placing one lone doughnut in a Dunkin Donuts sack
And placing it ‘round the house
When to eat, there was nothing else ‘round about.
Copyright 2014 Wanda S. Paryla
I don’t recall if I’ve ever posted this on my blog before, but thought it’s a fitting time to share.
DANCE OF THE SEASONS
Seasons change, bringing anew
The turning tides ring of truth
Times come and they go
Return and leave like the life of a rose
In the beginning of a season
Living life without reason
We feel totally robust
Then fall down and bust
Life, full of too much excitement,
Eventually brings tired days well spent
Whether it’s raking leaves
Or shoveling snow; hanging wreaths
Eventually the season ends
And before we know it, tends
To enter another season, yet again
A never-ending cycle upon which we depend
And as we dance in spring showers
And keep watch over growing flowers
The sun in the sky rises higher
As the days grow longer and lighter
The outdoors begs us, come
Time to begin outdoor fun
And next thing we know
Tulips smell fine and gone is the snow
As the roses rise high
Toward the big blue sky
Turning their faces aloft
We look ahead to summers so soft
Full of hot days and warm nights
We’ll lie on our backs; watch the skies for lights
Barbecues will be lit
With charcoal in their pits
And in the last days of summer
We’ll stand outside and act all the dumber
While pretending not to know
That soon enough, there’ll be snow
We’ll toast the long days
As we nod to changing ways
As fall chases summer away
And lessens our time of play
Ushering in things anew
Yet that seem old too
And soon the raking of leaves
Give way to the hanging of wreathes
Again we’ll sit ‘round hearth fires
Discussing days gone by with desire
And we sit with our cookies and coffees
Dreaming of summer and big Slurpees
It’s the dance of the seasons
It happens without reason
Round and round it goes
And where it’ll stop, everyone knows.
Copyright 2014 Wanda S. Paryla
And to my friends who still live in Texas. Don’t give it up. Never go away. You have no idea what you have. And if you absolutely must go, never let it go.
MY TEXAS NIGHTS
Sounds of cicadas buzz around me
The smell of fresh-cut hay does surround me
Home of a sizzling daytime sun and sticky, starry nights
Prairies glowing bright even in the dark of night
Night roses blooming
Under the cloak of night
Illuminated by a silvery moon delight
Pecan trees swaying
Growing all right
During the dead of night
Field mice wrestling
Waiting for the break of dawn
To run and burrow deep under the lawn
Gentleness against my skin
Draping herself around my shins
She touches my arm
Breezing by my cheek without alarm
She whispers in my ear
And, oh, how it tickles dear
A sweet breath of air
I never had need to despair
Rustling leaves sing as they shuffle
Promising my life will be free of bustle
Grazing under a moonlit front
Cattle low and grunt
Spider spinning her web
Pinning bugs dead
Night birds crooning tranquil tunes
Under the Texas moon
Inching worms and slithering snakes
All the hungry bunnies shake
Nibbling on tomatoes, eating lush
Let’s all hide with our bounty under prickly brush
And barking dog
Tomcat mewing on nigh
Oh how we all love the sugary-smelling night
Staring up at the Milky Way
With my child eyes, I pray
Please, God, I never want it to go away
I want life to always be this way
Go away it never did as I prayed
It was me who didn’t stay
Restless youth bid go
God, if I had only known
Now-a-days, I recall it, dreaming
Summoning a child’s moon, beaming
On the fields of my youth
That are now all gone…Poof!
In my memory lives on
My Texas nights
Copyright 2014 Wanda S. Paryla
*Demon 1 by IgorKieryluk
I fear for my weak and wretched soul
As he haunts me through ominous night
Luring me to deadly sins so foul
Enticing me away from the light
Night Demon, I beg him, stay away
My thoughts are scary, murky; viscous
Fear of harsh judgment keeps them at bay
Demon! Don’t lead me to be inauspicious
He shrieks at me through the vast darkness
Of my puzzled, spinning, ailing mind
No drug can sedate the beast unless
There is a spell that can tie and bind
Demon calls to me, to come and kill
I cover my ears; don’t want to hear
As he cruelly tries to break my will
Scratching, biting, at my force he tears
Demon’s friends join in on the horror
Skipping like evil fairies all night
Through the most horrible night terror
I’ve ever had and I heave from fright
Insanity is knocking dreadfully loud
As my thoughts turn creepy; distorted
I see Demon, hiding in his shroud
Morals, slowly being aborted
My spirit cries to not engage them
Those suddenly hideous feelings
I pray to God to end the mayhem
My mind is weakened and reeling
No, Demon, I will not follow you
I will take control of my own fate
To God I will go; won’t live like you
I slit my own wrists, so come and hate
Hate me for what I’ve done to myself
But I will not kill someone for you
Demon, why do you laugh with such stealth?
You think you’ve won; that I’ve killed for you?
Hell’s gates are now wide open for me
That’s just fine as it is I who died
I won, really, as I’m murder free
I’d rather burn in hell for suicide
Than smolder in hell for murdering
Some unsuspecting stranger out there
So drag me down to hell for saving
Someone else from my sick night terror
Demon snorts and hoots and laughs at me
The steel gates of hell are blared open
But what’s that bright light that shines with glee?
It’s a bright beam from God’s fine heaven
Night Demon, you are not what you seem
God tested me and I passed that exam
He’s opened the gates of Heaven for me
Though suicide should be a failed exam
“That’s an old-school rule,” God said. “Now come.”
Through the vast gates of Heaven I walked
I was elated; I felt at home
Then I turned, saw the Demon still stalked
Then looked to find the kind face of God
He nodded and then they became one
Truth hit me like a lightening rod
Then I awoke in my bed alone.
Copyright 2014 Wanda S. Paryla
This is free today:
A donation from every sale of the other two books in the series goes to Breast Cancer Care.
(From my journal entry of Tuesday, 10/14/14.) Most is from a journal entry, with added passages.
Rain falling steady
Warm air fighting Fall’s music
Autumn hums a chilling tune
Last week and this week is sure offering up some suspicious-acting weather. Some call it Indian Summer. It usually arrives in October of every year here. It can last 3-7 days. This one seems to be lasting seriously longer.
It did this crap last year, and it was an awful winter. 2013 ended rough, and 2014 began shitty. But, horses run. Fast. And thankfully the tides changed for me in some areas of my life. I’m glad of that even as some things stayed the same – good or bad. A thing or two got worse, a thing or so go better, but there were a few things that did not change at all.
Anyway – my handwriting is as shitty as it’s always been. I’ve been trying to work on my handwriting. Why am even mentioning my handwriting (in the WordPress version of this blog) I have no idea. I’m rambling.
Anyway, I have so many projects on the table – maybe too many – that I cannot accomplish even one. I have no idea what’s gotten into me… Or maybe, out of me. I’m gridlocked. I feel like I’m sitting in my car, stuck in a deep snowdrift, my wheels spinning as I watch the gas tank run dry.
I just paid an editor – who did fine work, by the way – to edit a book. I’ve mentioned it here before, Storm Dwellers. Well, I wanted to make changes to it. Some of these changes will take thinking and time. Therefore, I knew I would not make a near-Halloween release date. And, I was totally okay with that. Then all heck broke loose and I fell ill, and then Mom fell ill, then all sorts of craziness occurred.
Okay, back to Storm Dwellers. I received the edits back from the editor. I was all gung-ho to get this done, so she could take a look at the finished product. Deep down I knew that I would not be making a release for this Halloween. But then, I’d rather have a solid story than a Halloween release date. And if I really want an October date, I have all year to work on this story. It makes no difference to me and I’m sure it makes no difference to the editor. Time is what we have.
So, at first I thought I’d just lost interest in the story, but I knew better. And, believe it or not, I had no interest in writing anything at all! And I’d say out loud, “I don’t care! I hate writing. I don’t have to write.” In truth, I absolutely have to write.
It is not like I was working like made or anything before I got this bug. I don’t feel it is what’s referred to as “writer’s block.” It’s something else. What, I have no clue.
It is probably the reason I started this hand-written journal. To see if I can work out the bugs. I’ve gotten great advice on how to… or well, writers have shared ways they’ve overcome such obstacles in their past; they’ve offered exercises to help.
What the hell is wrong? Editor returned Storm Dwellers. Something I worked hard on. I stopped dead. I have other manuscripts in the works. One I have 200+ pages. Stopped. I can make a list, but why bore you with my failures? Okay, I was told to not call them failures. So here goes…
I have newly started novels, some containing only a few chapters, some a few pages, some finished halfway, and still other stuck in limbo riding on their notes:
-The Devil Plays Dice (sequel to Someday Always Comes)
-Cop Lover (book 2 in a series after Angel Maker)
-The Adam Conspiracy
-The Gem of Crystal Beach
-The Ghosts of Willow Marsh
Of course, the finished Storm Dwellers with a fresh return from the editor. Oh and a book of poetry I have work for.
And this list doesn’t end there – those are just the most notable. I was blessed with a Muse that never sleeps. Until now! My writing drove me crazy, often to the point a thought would cross my mind and the words would come out of my mouth. I had no control.
Here is the fact, and I’d like to share this because many people suffer with physical or psychological afflictions, or will at some point, especially as we age. We writers are not immune. In fact, it’s guaranteed that we will get some malady because we’re tagged. How else can we write? We have to be sad, angry, happy, crazy, or sick with something chronic and annoying but not always fatal. Often we are alcoholics, chain smokers or coffee addicts. Just to name a few things. I am no different. I find that I am not always sane, but in a good way. I think. But I’ve always had digestive issues, since I was about 30. It started innocently with GERD, gastric reflux disease. Then with an esophageal sphincter that doesn’t operate properly. Now it’s escalated to esophageal spasms, diverticulosis, diverticulitis, constipation, IBS, and now they’re going back in, in November, to recheck my stomach. Nice. So, I can’t eat, I vomit, stay nauseous. Check this and that for blood. Oh, yes there’s a whole list of gross stuff I can type here, but I’ll spare you the details. I spend quite a bit of time at the doctor’s office begging for mercy or lying in a hospital emergency department because they are the only ones that can stop the vomiting and pain and rehydrate at a high rate of speed.
My stomach and colon like to wreak havoc on my life, causing irritability and exhaustion. Which in turn causes depression. I cannot always sleep. Up, down, up down, every couple of hours. It gets on my nerves. I have to watch this food and that, and every day I find something else I cannot eat or drink, or something I should eat or drink. I found that too much dairy products are not good for the colon since they coat the colon and keep the good from attacking the bad. These bacteria cannot stay attached to the colon wall. This is the newest news. Guess I should not have eaten all that ice cream this summer. I have to take fiber, yogurt, probiotics, and this, that and the other! But I cannot have this, this and this.
I’m losing weight. Not a bad thing. But it’s due to the illness and my inability to eat larger meals. So anyway, I have to graze all day to avoid a full stomach. I find that doughnuts and light pastries are just what the doctor did not order, but at least they don’t make me sick.
I have been debating asking the doctor for sleeping pills. I hate them though. But I just want to sleep all night. Or maybe for like 5 hours straight for even one night. Just one night, that’s all I ask.
Oh forget it.
I miss Dr. Thomas. My prior doctor. She was so sympathetic and understanding. Seriously, June was a year that she’s been gone. Nothing I can do.
Maybe I need a vacation. Even a 2-3 day retreat. I’d love to hear the sound of the ocean again. The real ocean, not the ones on those CDs. Just for a few hours. Maybe next year.
I miss the Texas sky. Dark blue during the day, purple at night. Maybe I can go to Texas next year and sky worship for a few days. Maybe go to the coast. Maybe not come back to this place. Maybe stay at home.
*Please note, of course, I did find out after this journal entry that it’s this medication I take for esophageal spasms causing so much mind blockage!…A medication that I am (was) on for a physical illness may actually be causing mental fatigue and disinterest in my own writing, like depression. Holy shit! See? You just never know. Anyway, as many of us know about medications, often they are two-faced. Making you feel better in one way, as they are destroying some other part of you. To hell with medicines! This is getting on my nerves.A medication I desperately need and there is only about one other med I can take because the others are some sort of blood pressure meds used in small doses, and they do not want to give me that, because despite I want to kill people often, my blood pressure is the only thing that stays normal, except when I want to set fire to things and throw stuff! 😉 I suspected that the medication was beginning to cause this, though it’s rare for the low dosage to cause any emotional changes, the doctor said. She said if it does, it should not be noticeable. Well, the last time I got sick, I could not take this med for a few days and I saw the difference but thought…”Hey, I need this,” and chalked it up to my imagination. Now I’ve fallen ill again and had to stop taking meds by mouth again…low and behold, the mind fog lifted yet again. So I guess, back to the doctor to find something new. Or I’ll have to seek out something holistic. That is if there is anything.*
Now, as for Storm Dwellers, I will have to work on this slowly to get it where I want it. In the meantime, since this medicine that’s caused me so many issues behind my back, is now leaving my system, I have had another story idea, which I posted about on Facebook as well as a short blurb here on WP a couple days back. It’s tentatively titled, Chicago Down. We’ll see how that works out as my senses come back to me.
Thanks for visiting my blog. And, be sure to check each day this week, I have blogs planned for each day. Happy reading!
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“All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”