Trick Retreat
At five o’clock they climb the hill to ring and ring my bell.
When I do not answer, the mob begins to swell.
Their cries of “We want Halloween!!” resound like cries from Hell.
My dogs begin a clamoring—and barks turn into growls.
The children’s only English words digress to angry howls
that prompt a shiver down my back––a loosening in my bowels.
I give in and seize the bowl and open up the gate.
The children swell around me, angry I’m so late.
They dig their hands into the bowl—in no mood for debate.
When I scream out “Take only one!” they begin to mind,
and they become more orderly and line up one behind
another as a snake of children starts to move and wind
from the bottom of the hill up to my front door
but when it seems I’ve served them all, there are always more:
one hundred, then two hundred, three hundred and then four!
And when I think the line perhaps is starting to get thin,
I finally discover that they got in line again
and came back to my doorway––where they’ve already been!
My candy store’s diminished, in fact there is no more
and they grow disorderly, waiting at my door
as I distribute all my fruit—right down to the last core.
Then I start giving canned goods—beans and corn and peas.
By the time my larder’s empty, they have brought me to my knees.
“Please, go home,” I beg them. “Leave my house now, please!”
But they have no pity. They are carrying off my plants.
I go into my closets and bring out my shirts and pants.
Still I hear requests for more—their demands and their rants.
I give them all my easy chairs, my pictures and my rugs,
my glasses and my dishes, my pots and pans and mugs.
From my refrigerator, I return with bowls and jugs.
Until my house is empty, they refuse to go away;
but finally I have no more, and I begin to pray
that they will soon release me from this relentless fray.
And then I see a ray of hope as across the street
my neighbor opens up his door and children’s footsteps beat
in a new direction—as they mount a swift retreat.
I hear my neighbor’s screams and cries as they shout for more.
Though I should go and help him, I’m yellow to the core
as I take the coward’s action and swiftly slam my door!!!
Mexico is lovely. It’s warm and lush and green.
I love its smiling people. I love its rich cuisine.
But there’s one drawback to living here that I have clearly seen.
I RUE THE DAY THAT MEXICO DISCOVERED HALLOWEEN!!!!!
I reblogged myself on this one! Doesn’t hurt to run one by again now and then, does it? The Prompt today was Trick.
This is great. Worth the reblog. It is terror when you run out of candy.
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I must admit there was a teensy bit of slight exaggeration there. Did you catch that? ;o)
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Very subtle.
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Ha. As are you.
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If the TV networks can rerun entire series (and not just once), why can’t we rerun our own posts? They go by so fast, a lot of people don’t see them the first time through and our audience changes with time too.
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I think so long as you can enjoy reading it again, your readers will, too. And if you’ve forgotten most of it, they’ve probably forgotten all of it.
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Sounds like a great way to de-clutter the house. 🙂
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Ha.. I may need to resort to that.
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Hahaha!!! I have a deadly fear of H’ween — I hide from it completely when I can! Sometimes a movie, sometimes a late supper — turn off the lights, and pretend I’m not home. One year when I had a box of pencils to give out at work (sales for a student loan lender), I used up half the box when I ran out of candy — after all it was educational, and the little dears had parents who might be in college 🙂 !
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I just spilled a full glass of tea. I cleaned it up and while still mad at my clumsy self, I read your poem. It really made me laugh..so funny!
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Thanks, Mary.. Need to look at your blog to see where you are!
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beautiful……
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Sounds like this Halloween you should retire to a cantina for the evening. I wouldn’t want to lose you to the hoards 🎃
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We now all contribute candy and the kids come to one place to get a big bag of it each instead of coming house-to-house.
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👍
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There was an old man in our village, of Scottish descent I will add, who used to buy a big bag of marshmallows and gave one to each child that came to his door. He thought this a very practical treat, But then one day he discovered mini-marshmallows, so he generously gave each child three.
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Ha. I bet they were thrilled. And I bet his windows got soaped.
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I should write a blog post about dear old Carl. 🙂 He lived in a two-storey old red brick house, so the windows were hard to reach without a ladder. But if his windows got soaped, they were one of the few things that did at his house, if you get my meaning 😉
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Ha!!! I think you should write about him. Just from what I’ve heard so far, I want to hear more.
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I asked my husband if he’d written a blog post about Carl, and he gave me this link:
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