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Your hosts,Penelope and Arc, welcome you....and have collaborated to set the stage...
The Locale
A Creole Townhouse, shutters drawn.
Where many a party has lasted 'til dawn
In the French Quarter but tucked away
from all the fraternity boys at play.
Next door The Hotel Monteleone.
Where Tennessee Williams held court on his throne.
The iron gates creak as you enter the yard.
Greeted at first by the gargoyle guards.
The Ogre will welcome you in his southern drawl.
His ivy covered home, four stories tall.
A decadent place for a decadent beast.
Any desire on which to feast.
The antiques,parlors and secret doors
allow plenty of room for you to explore.
Keep your mind open and no secret hidden.
This is New Orleans and nothing's forbidden.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The LitOgre
A toast to the host of the Masquerade ball.
He’s got a goatee which is grizzled.
His jaw line isn’t rounded or chiseled.
He’s not all that tall, yet he isn’t small.
Behind the mask, blue eyes sparkle and flash,
there’s a bump on the bridge of his nose.
It was broken in a dust up with foes
and compliments his dueling scar gash.
When he grins, teeth gleam ivory,
His laugh might well raise the dead.
A curly calico wig on his head
which he borrowed from Miss Bovary.
He’s wearing a get-up of glad rags
draped from his chin to knobby knees,
moth eaten but devoid of fleas
and loaned by some ‘Big Easy’ hags.
His stocking are rose coloured lace.
Flashed garters sport cap-pistol guns.
Skin gapes through ladders and runs.
Puce sandals from a lost boudoir chase.
A toast to the host of the Masquerade ball.
He might be a puckish scamp
but tonight he’s outlandish camp
and calling - ‘Come one and come all!’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Devil-Mama MIA!
As one of the hosts of the Ogre's ball,
my ensemble must be volcanic.
My mood is a swinging sixties chick
impregnated by something Satanic.
Mia Farrow with the Sassoon cut
inhabiting the character, Rosemary.
The spawn of Satan in her gut
my mini dress colored "canary".
My husband has been acting strangely.
I hope he's not uptight.
He's dressed as Rosemary's husband, Guy.
There's no such thing as the Devil, right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amazing Grace!
I’m all decked out in Irish lace
and shoulder an Aran Go Bragh shawl.
While this garb wouldn’t weather a squall,
it pays tribute to my birth place.
A green sequined mask hides my face
Emerald studs jazz up my ears.
They’re booty from rollicking years
on ships which out sailed every chase.
I’m geared up for a blistering pace
My brass-buckled shoes have worn heels.
because I adore jigs and reels.
The tunes map a course I can trace.
O’Malley’s, the name I embrace.
A gambler who loves cards and dice
and wager it’s my favourite vice.
I’ll even bet on a three peg-leg race.
While some labeled her a disgrace,
I’m here to assist our gracious host
tending guests, till they give up the ghost
because, don’t you know, I’m Pirate Grace!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The townhouse doors are flung open and there's plenty of room.
We've music, food and libations to sweep away gloom.
Come join us for spell, please answer our costume call.
You're all very welcome at the LitOgre's Masquerade Ball.
------ Amy Corless
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