OCTOBER POETRY.
“THE VOICE”
We saw a candle in the window of the chapel in the graveyard,
And it flickered as it slowly moved away.
Was that the wind in the pipes of the old dusty organ,
Or just howling down the hill among the graves?
Then lightning struck the steeple and it rang the chapel bell
That’s been rusted into silence for many years.
Then the thunder rolled away and the organ starts to play,
And we heard a voice that filled our hearts with fear.
Then the voice called through the night so loud and clear,
“Is there anything at all you’d like to hear?
Though my bones are old and moldy I just love to pick them oldies.
Is there anything at all you’d like to hear?”
So we dug up some requests for him to try.
We shouted, “How ’bout ‘Speckled Bird’ or ‘Jambalay‘?”
He said, “Maybe I’ll ad lib a chorus on my ribs.”
Then the voice sang all the songs that made us cry.
Well, the three of us, we sang the whole night long.
He kept pickin’ funky organ until dawn…
Till the morning mist was rising on the lawn…
When the sun came up, we knew that he was gone.
Now the first red rays of sun begin to creep,
And the shadows of the graves are long and deep.
We smile and wonder when we’ll hear that voice again…
Then we close the lid and sing ourselves to sleep.
Then we close the lid and sing ourselves to sleep.
* * *
HALLOWEEN SONG:
“If I knew you were comin’ I’d have baked a cat.”
Jack Blanchard.
Copyright © Jack Blanchard 2005 to 2018