Here is a poem I wrote last September for a university art class. I was supposed to write a paragraph explaining my sculpture but rather I wrote an accompanying poem. My inspirational context is I was anticipating the onset of fall and the coming of Halloween. I was in a rather macabre mood, comme i…
The Gazebo Party
Every day and every night,
There is a party at the gazebo.
Its festivities reach near and far.
It is a party all must attend,
But some choose to attend freely.
Most throw away the invitation:
The one received at conception.
Every step is a roll of loaded dice
Until the un-RSVP-ed invitation
Is realized by the host
And comes to collect his party-goers.
There are people who are caught off guard and/or
Just accept the host’s ride.
Others run and deny their reality,
While the few of the few
Dart towards a beacon of whittled hope
Looking for their key
Or a rock to cling to.
For the party’s host has tendrils
To drag you to the gazebo.
They are the same entangling appendages
That also hold the hourglass
Which knows the precise time
You are due to arrive.
After the last grain of salt has fallen,
You begin to dance at the Gazebo.
You see all the skulls and bones
Of which the structure is built.
It’s all who have attended.
You sway with the host until you realize
You are now one of them.
Welcome to the Gazebo Party.