Boy's on the Loose -- a Poem for The Sunday Muse # 131

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The Outing 

The boys were out today 

It may last the night 

They'd called in sick that morn 

Didn't tell their wives 

(Shorty riding back 

didn't have a wife) 

It was a topdown day 

Sunshine and pumpkins 

Fall days meant for outings 

Drive eat drink a bit 

(They'd be seaside 

by afternoon) 

Swim and surf spread the food 

Shorty's cooler packed 

Girl's on blanket next to 

Invited them 

(Didn't last long 

our married men)

Evening was coming near 

Drive into the town 

Cruised the streets until ten 

Yes, they'd called their wives 

(Memories aroused 

Like olden days) 

Moonlight driving back home 

Day to remember 

One like when they were young 

Needed get away 

(Shorty's flowers 

for the two wives) 

_ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 

 - Photo screenshot of Sunday Muse # 131 prompt photo posted by Fireblossom at  http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2020/10/sunday-muse-131.html?m=1 

 - NOTE:  I have been told that the picture's person in the back seat is a lady.  I believe that is right but had thought it was a guy.  I wrote for Shorty being a guy holding flowers for the others' wives.  Sorry. 

 - I like the picture or I would remove it??  Maybe I'd best buy a computer, I write with my Galaxy 8 smart phone.

 -  My Play Car 

 A 1998 Ford Mustange GT Convertible. 

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-- a Poem for Weekly Scribblings # 42

Gone 

Thirty years have passed 

But I remember still 

Seemed like yesterday 

Same crowd except for Luke 

Outskirts of our town 

Cemetery visit 

Halloween ghosts 

Goblins too real scary 

Down in the corner 

A few carnations waved 

When we neared we stopped 

Twilight nearing the night 

Something was not right 

A grave freshly covered 

Amateur work showed 

Human leg sticking out 

Slowly coming close 

Other leg chewed away 

Bone splinters around 

Filled our treat bags with bone 

Something rustling near 

Let out blood curdling howl 

Teeth barred deadly growl 

We grabbed our bags and ran 

Keeper of the bones 

Job they elected me 

Stashed under my bed 

Guarded by boogey man 

Years pased I'm renowned 

Bone artist carved and cast 

Grinding those splinters 

Was in back of my mind 

Art piece remembrance 

Bone paste into the mold 

Hardened then polished 

A rosary fit for Queen  

Put it on display 

Think now where would it be 

Go back to that grave 

Hang it on the tombstone 

Gathering our crowd 

Except for Luke we go 

Halloween is here

Twilight we are not seen 

The broach in the bag 

Tombstone is now in sight 

Would  wolves come again 

Something is different 

Sleek stone name we know 

It's Luke surprise surprise 

Gone ragged fellow 

Hang the rosary here 

 _ _ _ 

 - Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved 

 - Linked to Weekly Scribblings # 42, prompt by Magaly Guerrero and introductory by MMT -- read her instructions and of MMT's workings at 

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2020/10/weekly-scribblings-42-about-those-bones.html?m=1

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