It is National Novel Writing month – and well I don’t write Novels but I do try to write novel poetry. One a day for November!

All Saints;
creep across my calendar,
reminding me yet again,
that last night was hell,
and today is no better.

bitter herbs in my beer
hide the taste of dying
lingering long in my mouth

All Saints;
watch from where they dwell,
along with my mother as well,
soft tsk tsking my choices –
so much wisdom lies unlearned.

unearned dreams are fleeting
drifting up they’re flying
clouds obscure the sun

All Saints;
so many martyrs for the cause,
while mortal I sacrifice my health,
consuming sweet wrapped remnants,
more trick and much less treat,

trust me I always tell the truth
covering up my embarrassment
and revealing everyone else.