Category Archives: poetry by author

Ode from a deliquescing pumpkin

I was once a pumpkin:
Now I am a mess.
The party night is over
And I wait to deliquesce.

The treats have been handed out
Some to children too bold
Who think that a cigarette
Is not a sign you’re too old.

They came in hoards and cars
As if the end of time was near
From close by and far way
Some with the scent of beer.

I was once orange and in my prime
Round and succulent to behold.
But now I deliquesce
As I grow a little mold.

I will not make Thanksgiving
Which I hear is a special holiday
Where pumpkins become pie
And make taste buds say, “Yay!”

I hope you will remember me
As I slump into the earth.
Don’t think of me as too scary
But with a little mirth.

And next year at this time
Decorate one of my kin
And the season of the spooks
Can once again begin.

–by David E. Booker