#pranks
They say the wind at Hollowmere Hill
Does not quite blow, but hums and chills;
It carries whispers of ancient cheer,
And laughter lost to another year.
For once, when frost first kissed the corn,
And daylight died too soon, too worn,
The townsfolk felt a trembling dread—
The feast was set, but none were fed.
The pumpkins sagged with sullen eyes,
The apples rotted mid-surprise;
The turkeys fled, the cider soured,
The maple trees stood strangely glowered.
So through the mist the elders crept,
To call the Harvest’s ghost they kept—
The Hollow Host, with crown of sheaves,
Who walked each year among the leaves.
They lit three lanterns, red as sin,
And left them by the door within;
Then whispered prayers in cider’s steam,
And waited long through autumn’s dream.
At first came footsteps—slow and low,
Like roots that creak where shadows grow.
A cold wind sighed, the rafters moaned,
The apples shook, the kettle groaned.
The door swung wide—
and in stepped He,
With cloak of moss,
and scent of tree.
No face he had, just shifting hue,
Of harvest gold and pumpkin blue.
He spoke in crackles, soft and thin:
"The Feast begins—when joy begins."
And all at once, the spell was broke!
The fire leapt, the cider woke,
The table groaned with pumpkin pies,
With candied yams and laughter’s cries!
The ghostly guest threw off his hood,
And there stood Farmer Wilkin’s brood!
They’d played a trick, those rascals bold,
To scare the townfolk, truth be told.
They’d hung dry leaves to rattle loud,
They’d lit the smoke to make a shroud;
They’d turned their coats and stitched a mask—
To play the spirit’s ancient task.
Yet none took anger, none took fright—
They roared with mirth the whole long night!
The cider flowed like maple sun,
The autumn prank had just begun.
Now every year on Hollowmere Hill,
They dress the ghost and play the thrill—
They set three lanterns, red and round,
And dance till frost has touched the ground.
And if you pass that hill at dusk,
Through scents of smoke and oak and musk,
You’ll hear their laughter through the chill—
The joyous haunt of Hollowmere Hill.
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 12:22 PM UTC
.
fortune have i amongst friends today
for giggles
we're playing 'dress up' as shadows
we assign ourselves each an adult target
then we race brazen missiles at strangers
and induce connections
.
aligning with their moves
magnetized fish children facing rival reflection
then toes to their heels in glad dance mime
flapping about to mate
with their actions and irritations
.
they try to dog shake us loose
they clamour and parade
run at us snapping
hiss anger and fail to evade us
our sapping
and they become bone-weird and depleted
our mad energetic spell
.
we’ve exhumed away their humour
and they've given over the fight
the light
that little furnace
a beady l.e.d. clips off
then we the shadows are guide
and we’ve taken over strings on kite
we have won our somnolent zombie slaves
we could ride them like a mule
and feed them their own stool
...if it best pleased us
.
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 5:35 PM UTC
As the young me see
That horrid video
I see the woman
Skin and bones
I have compassion
For a cannot imagine
Her suffering
Before her end.
Why can’t we see the inner beauty
Instead of outer.
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 3:38 PM UTC
Jamie's been pranking me as far as I can remember.
Today's my turn!
I hid behind his door with my cleverly placed trap.
A simple banana peel would do the trick.
I had carefully placed it behind his door,
He would simply step on it and slip,
I would stand over his fallen body and laugh out loud.
I smirked at my evil master plan.
Now Jamie's footsteps approached,
It got closer... and then the door opened,
My heart raced as I awaited my moment of triumph.
Jamie stepped on the peel...
He landed hard on the floor.
But not with his back as I had imagined,
Jamie landed with his head...
He let out a loud cry,
He was in a pool of blood,
Jamie was now silent.
"Jamie"," Jamie" I cried out.
Paralysed with fear and guilt.
This wasn't the plan Jamie.
Please wake up!
Mum! Mum!! Mum!!
Help!.
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 8:25 AM UTC
I Have Given The Kids At Family Christmas, Explosives.
I told them,
"Keep these in your pockets and don't tell your parents you have them until you get home.
If you throw it at the ground it will explode and make a loud noise!
Suprise your parents with them, and tell them
Nick gave it to you".
Then I went to their parents,
"I Have Given Your Children Explosives".
"Wait, WHAT?"
"I have told your children to hide explosives from you until they get home, and to then suprise you with them.
Act scared".
I handed them their own explosives.
"These are for revenge".
One little girl came out while I briefed the adults,
"I just heard that".
I gave her three more explosives.
"These are for staying quiet.
You're on the adult team now.
When you get home,
scare your brother".
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC
I wanted to sleep with out a hitch,
no sound, no complaints or a twitch.
Closed my eyes and about to drift
heard my window clanged with a stick.
Cursing god for not giving an ear lid
went about clearing with a mop stick.
Settling down to sleep light, if not sound
wishing my sanity stays around,
a Cat's mew, woke me this time...
muffled voices adding to the strain.
Sure something gone amiss
woke again to see what it is?
The kitchen sink full of foam,
The cat mewing undertone.
Poor cat frightened and soggy
holding for it's dear life weary.
Counted to ten and went back to my pen
wide awake and at my wit's end.
I prayed, for a little quiet,
some silent moments out of riots...
If I do not find some little peace here,
I will lose my mind for sure.
There came the reason for all this pain,
looking like an angel with no complaints,
wobbly lips and cherubic smile,
walked with his cat leaving a trail.
felt like thrashing him with a pole,
but laughed and laughed till my throat turned sore.
A sorry etched all over his face,
And not sure how to plead his case,
looked at me with looks forlorn,
I shook my head for invisible horns
He with his teddy and me with my pillow,
A perfect combo not in need of a trio,
We started to laugh and hugged each other,
End of story between a son and his mother.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 2:59 PM UTC
The two hundred pound waitress
Was smoking and patting
At her nearly two-foot-high hair.
The cook was scrubbing
The scunge off the griddle
Old Zeke was drunk in a chair.
A lonely song was playing
For the twenty third time.
The jukebox was just that old.
Young Biff was mopping
In the light of a weak bulb
He knew the water had gone cold.
Still he scrubbed at the colorless
Old linoleum floor, sulking
One more job to get through.
When the door to the café
Quite suddenly opened
And paper and napkins flew.
It was Biff's friend from school,
Most folk thought him a fool,
Jokey Jerry, his Dad and a girl.
His whole mind was taken
By the sight of the vision.
The most beautiful girl in the world.
When they sat at the counter,
Biff washed his hands
And hurried the waitress away.
He put a menu between them,
Between Jerry and the girl,
Asked what she would have today.
She laughed into her hand
And fluttered her lashes.
They were just for a moment alone.
Then his friend asked Biff
"Gimme change all in quarters
And where is the john and the phone?"
So, now with the mood broken
All too abruptly
He took all their orders and blushed.
He offered her some pie
That was made by his mother
Told her she must taste the crust.
The cook began to fry
The food they had ordered
As Biff gazed into her brown eyes.
His friend, the girl's brother
Sneaking behind them
Set fire to Biff's apron ties.
When the smoke rose enough
That somebody noticed
The girl let out a small sound.
Biff began to flail
At his smoldering backside
And wailed as he ran all around.
Quickly circling the room,
He stepped into his bucket,
Which went along with him as he ran.
Then bounced off the leg of
A customer's chair and they fell,
Hamburger, the chair and the man.
The patty flew out
And landed on the waitress
Who screamed and jumped to her feet.
And elbowed the cook
Who was cleaning her glasses
Which then fell into the hot grease.
She shrieked as she reached
For the tongs to retrieve them
And woke up the drunk by the door.
Zeke began to sing,
"Alouette", out of tune.
And "Hallelujah, praise the Lord!"
Oh his journey around the café
Raising all kinds of havoc
Biff found himself by the windows.
Somehow set fire to Hazel's
New book-ordered curtains.
Jerry's Dad yelled, "Thar she blows!"
Thinking rather quickly
Since he was nearest the danger,
Dad threw his iced-tea at the flames.
And most of the canary yellow
Took-two-weeks-to-get-them
Café curtains with the drawbacks were saved.
Biff was still standing,
The bucket on his foot,
So he bent to pull it away.
Around the corner came Lem,
A very large fellow
Who didn't see Biff in his way.
He sent Biff careening
Through the checkered-cloth tables
To end in the corner, in the dirt.
The shreds of his dignity
Were scattered around him
As tattered as his ruined pants and shirt.
But the beautiful ladylike,
Lovely sister of Jerry
Dared anyone else to make fun.
She took Biff's hand
And smiling, she told him.
"Darlin', this is how legends are begun."
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
George came by bus everyday
From Alvinston;
A No-Daddy community.
I've heard that town
Should be fenced
And re-named a Zoo.
During a power outage
George was suspected
Of being the dumper
In the middle of the gym floor,
During class. He was present.
The evidence was piled against George,
But inconclusive.
When George brought
A bag of **** to school
I called his mother,
A worn-out, retired pole-dancer.
When she arrived I showed her
The bag. She was pleased
I didn't turn George over to the cops,
But roundly upset with George
For swiping her good stuff,
And not the skunk ****
Some kids' parents.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
I've weighed the pranks:
Pulling out a chair;
Flooded fairways;
Skunky beer;
Onion candy apples;
Mayo in cream-filled donuts;
Lubricating jelly in handwash;
Polyurethaning soap;
Baking soda in ketchup bottles;
Flushing while the shower's in use;
Sending a welcome card on behalf of your friend to Kingdom Hall;
Eliot was right,
Snow in April is the cruelest.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
It is not
a good idea.
But
This is not
a cliche.
Truth
I’m pulling
no prank.
Please
I mean it
free me.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
Those sparkling eyes, that charming smile
That countenance full of love
You cast a spell on everyone,
Innocence, you are a child!
Your naughty pranks, your witty lies,
Your cries and your giggles
I have no answer to your endless queries
Innocence, you are a child!
You know no caste, you know no creed
You know no envy and pride
You put to shame, men at war
Innocence, you are a child!
I watch you sleep, undisturbed
A picture of serenity!
With a smile on your face and a tear in your eye
Innocence, you are a child!
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:09 AM UTC