Since the dreaded day is on a Sunday, I'm posting this a little early. Not too much to say about this year's effort. Ballad Verse, no internal rhyme, more plot than poetics. Enjoy!
I don't know where I started from
Or how I came to be;
I sat upon a little shelf
With others just like me.
A plushy hide envelops us
As soft as soft can be;
And beady eyes gaze out upon
A bustling company.
Both large and tall they dwarf our size
And rush throughout the day.
Among these some will slow their pace
And turn to look our way.
Awareness of this time and space
We barely register.
But gradually we noticed that
Our members disappear.
My brethren silently communed
Perplexed at what we face.
We can do nothing but observe
A dwindling of our race.
“Where do they go?” And “Who is next?”
The questions come to bear.
“And is our plight related to
These beings all out there?”
It fell to me, by common choice,
To seek and to achieve
A way to stop the kidnappings,
But first I had to leave.
How did they part, my missing friends?
What secret conduit?
And then I was gripped from behind!
A Ha! So that was it!
I floated to a counter top
With flashing lights and beeps.
I then was dropped into a sack!
It sure gave me the creeps.
The darkness made my mind go blank
I faded for a while.
Eventually I came about
And saw a toothy smile.
A giantess had hold of me;
There still was too much glare.
My sight though dim could just make out
What seemed to be a lair.
So this was what befell my chums,
A fate I scarce could guess.
Was I a meal or sacrifice?
I quailed in my distress.
She crushed me in a bear hug,
Quite worthy of the phrase;
“Alas, dear friends, we'll meet again,”
I thought in her embrace.
And then, no more, I mean, that's it.
She placed me on a shelf.
Beside me were a motley crew
Who seemed much like myself.
Dimensions, fur, and countenance,
They were not uniform.
My brethren all looked just like me,
But these guys weren't the norm.
I soon discovered common ground,
A time line here held sway.
We each appeared a year apart;
And almost to the day.
There intermixed among us were
The trappings of a rite.
The color red had shone throughout,
Displayed around the site.
Some holiday, we figured out,
And this shelf was the shrine.
A “Valentine” was what we were,
A symbol or a sign.
What that could mean, I did not know.
The others knew not, too.
From shelf to shelf we had traversed
To mark some such ado.
Each passing year we always found
An add-on to our pack.
And steadily our number grew;
I rarely did look back.
I never did meet with again
My brothers from before.
I'd hoped their fate was much like mine,
New friends, and nothing more.
This Day for “Valentines” I came
To see as an affair,
To leave the fold and to step out
And join a bigger lair.
-James Morris, February 11, 2010