I know I passed me

I know I passed me on the stairs
I felt my soul brush my arm
I felt my soul kiss my cheek
I know I passed me on the stairs

I passed me again as I played in the street
I felt myself kick the ball
I felt myself run the race
I passed me again as I played in the street.

I passed me again as I strolled down the hall
I felt myself open eternity’s door
I felt myself sway with eternal delight
This time I followed me into the light.

Lee McQuinn
6 August 2008

Carriage of Immortality

Because when he stopped
He did not stop for me
His carriage held not only ourselves
But immortality

He drove quickly, showing all haste
I could but grasp and hold onto
He was most rude
As on we flew, past the children at play

As on we flew
the moonlight played upon the pond
We passed the rising sun
Or did it pass us
The further it rose the colder it was
A heavy cloak of flannel round
My naked flesh now new

We entered through a gate it seemed
To creak and grind with rust
A bed was made, All satin and silk
Awaiting its possession

Today it is as many past
Feels all the new again
For I surmised the driver hence
The corpse which now I am.

Lee McQuinn


How I love this day!
All the wonderful smells of cooking turkeys
Pies that never seem to be enough of heaven
Pleasing to the eye and to the tongue
You can’t imagine my glee

This day of thankfulness begins as it must
Home with all my family
All of us waiting for the feast
Now listen to the children laugh
Kicking around ice balls in the yard
Sipping hot cider by the fire
Giving gifts of love all around
Investing in a future of love
Vieing for the wishbone future
Inside the empty remains
Next to the empy thighs,
Guts and gravy… ah, what a day!

Penelope Shedrech
C. 2008

All Hallow’s Eve

On all Hallow’s Eve
they venture out
their earthy rot smell
permeating the midnight air
they walk the streets
they plunder and pillage
leaving behind screams
in their frightening wake
It’s all Hallow’s Eve
can’t you see the mistake
suddenly alone below
the old abandoned house
the spirits afoot
seem their candles flicker
as they commit nightly sins
of sacrilege and sacrifice
It’s all Hallow’s Eve
the spirits out in force
looking for new souls
recruiting the devil’s army
you stand at the gate
it creaks open wide
do you dare to look inside?

Penelope Shedrech

A Child’s Song

Soldierman, Soldierman,
Lend me your ear,
Is it life
Or death
You fear?

Soldierman, Soldierman,
When you’re diggin’ in,
Do you wonder,
If you’ll win?

Soldierman, Soldierman,
As you set your sights,
In your heart,
Do you crave
The fight?

Soldierman, Soldierman,
With your head held high,
How many have died
To fill you
With pride?

Lee McQuinn
178 – 010119920002

Holiday Letdown

Christmas as a holiday is now past news.
Sheets of Carol music tucked inside the piano bench
Saved for another year’s celebration.
The lights are taken down, checked,
And stored for next year’s display.
Christmas memories, cherished ornaments
Stowed in cardboard boxes for next year’s tree.
The house is back to its pre-holiday perfection
Its festive atomosphere hidden until next year.
The holiday, now put away,
Hidden among the attic antiquities.

Lee McQuinn
162 – 122819971215

Tasty Snack

It’s midnight here
the moon is full
tilting back my head
I give it a wolvine roar!
Then running fast
I seek out and search
the scent of blood
warm, contained
it tingles my nose
until at last
I find it there
crouching, terrified
behind the garbage can
I sniff with my snout
gums curled back
to taste the bloody air
a tasty child morsel
ahhh, smick, smick
tasty… yeah, tasty!

Penelope Shedrech

Speak Easy

In suspicious expectation you follow the music
its big band vibe calling you from street
Neon sign’s glow amid the fog
you follow unsure quite why, but you do
you open the heavy door to a scene
out of history books you would assume
a speak-easy of olden day’s flair
hopping to the beat of a brass quartet
a place where smoke lingered
over long stemmed cigarettes
hung from thin, manicured fingers
nail tips dipped in auspicious red
and red pouty lips enticingly matched
to dare one to taste perchance to dance
to the lindy tune, the quick-step,
or to grandly waltz into the memories
of the years, the decades, the century
now gone by way of sweet sentimentality
until the old clock above the bar
strikes at the fatal hour
the flames rise up, the band quiets
the smoke fills and dancer vanish
yet, still the smell of stale cigarettes
and myriad perfumes fill the air
in the echo of the silent night
standing alone in the empty lot.

Penelope Shedrech