Thread: Mistress of Gloom on her Birthday

Yank those candles
out from the white bakery cake.
They are nothing but upright pencils
which will bend, waxen,
writing death on teeth rotting sugar.
The top round birthday pond.

Turn the party hat upside down
so I can funnel the years
I’d care not to be the sum of my experience.
That would be the wizardly gift.

Or you could bring me Anne Sexton
and a bottle of booze.
She would be the death of the party.
(She’s laughing now at this irony)

Honestly, I’m glad I’m alive another year.
I need some more time to write my epitaph.

Well, "Gloomy Birthday to you..."

seriously, I won't look at a party hat again the same, it will forever be a funnel to pour the years down

Originally Posted by SilverMoon

writing death on teeth rotting sugar.

ok, I actually saw someone with rotting teeth grinning over a cake - yikes

Honestly, I’m glad I’m alive another year.
I need some more time to write my epitaph.

nice save at the end, almost - "glad", then give a morbid reason for the gladness

Blow out the candles already, and embrace the darkness - -

I'm kidding in all this : )

a really nice piece line by line, and the ending is actually perfect

Aw crap, Todd already said all the good stuff. I hate being late to the party, ugh. Love this, Law, your bite just keeps getting sharper. Echo Todd's party hat sentiment, never again will I view them the same. And the ending is ABSOLUTEly (tee hee, get it?) perfect. I wish you at the very least, another fifty, to compile excellent material for that epitaph, although, and no disrespect intended, you've quite the stockpile already. Can't wait to see what the future brings.

birthdays are nothing to look forward to as you grow older. I can relate to this. Those candles seem to mock (hardly fitting on the cake).

Enjoyed this (and the rotting teeth image).

Thank you all from the bottom of my dark heart! I have to think of a better epitaph than Dorothy Parker's. (One of my favorite writers) This is one of my great goals in life.

That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment.
Dorothy Parker

I had a grand day yesterday. Wore a darling black dress, ate black forest cake with no candles atop, of course. Insisted that my friends wear black to my home. One friend came as Death. I told him that he went too far and that it was not Halloween. I played Chet Baker to get us all in a glum mood. I served a Merlot. No ABSOLUTE Lisa, you clever imp! Nothing like a blood red wine. My best friend bought me a life size talking skeleton. One guest gagged his mouth immediately. It was too much for her. She'll not be invited next year.

I think I should spend some time in Fiction.

About my poem. I feared some would take it seriously. I thank you for getting it in all its sorry glory. If anyone wants to enlist me to muster something up for a wedding toast or something, I am at your service. Laurie

Beyond the beauty of the poem is the beauty in your responses. Playing Chet Baker? Ah, really? The darkness of your heart is sweet. Wonderful poem draped in the sickening cobwebs of gloom. Yes, that party hat refrence is a beautiful gem to be used forever by poets to explain the lostness of birthday time when we realize cake doesn't mean joy. Like that you brought that great dame Sexton into it, knowing what the dead know, it fits with the essence or vision of this poem. Well done Silver, drenching birthdays with the beauty of aging death.

Well thanks, Hoot. The stangest thoughts come to mind when in the middle of the Zone. Instantly saw an upside down party hat as a funnel. And then, as you well know, we must create some kind of purpose or action. In the context of my poem, at least.

Like that you brought that great dame Sexton into it,

Anne had to come to the party. For now, she's my greatest muse. And only she could commit suicide with class. She put on her mother's old fur coat, removed all her rings, poured herself a glass of vodka, locked herself in her garage, and started the engine of her car. If I were ever so inclined, I'd rent a Rolls. Yes, put Chet in the CD player, a bottle of Grey Goose vodka and caviar. My writings would be with me for posthumous publication.