2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 14

Okay, we’re now a full two weeks into this challenge. How’s everyone holding up? l’ve been pretty pleased with my output so far–even working a few form poems into the mix. Anywho, we wrote kind poems yesterday, so today I’m going in a different direction for my little boys.

For today’s prompt, write a deadly and dangerous poem. Or you could write just a deadly poem. Or you could write a just dangerous poem. Feel free to poem on the wild side today!

Here is my attempt:

“Ghosts”

Of course, we walk through a cemetery,
though Will prefers to call it a graveyard,
and we talk about the weight we carry
around our big house on the boulevard,

though Will prefers to call it a graveyard.
Always something else, he labels the things
around our big house on the boulevard
as if we live in some movie showing

always something else. He labels the things
we never speak about from our dark past
as if we live in some movie showing
all of the curses and spells that we cast.

We never speak about from our dark past
those last fading specks of purple twilight.
All of the curses and spells that we cast
over our shoulders burn into the night–

those last fading specks of purple twilight–
and we talk about the weight we carry
over our shoulders. Burned into the night,
of course, we walk through a cemetery.

*****

Find me on Twitter @robertleebrewer

And be sure to learn more about writing, publishing, and life on my other blog: My Name Is Not Bob.

*****

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Learn how to write an exciting deadly and dangerous story with Writing the Paranormal Novel, by Steven Harper. This book helps writers choose supernatural elements, create engaging characters, develop strong plot points, and more.

Click to continue.

 

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359 thoughts on “2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 14

  1. alana sherman

    Capital Punishment

    For a few days
    I’ve watched
    the red squirrels
    playing in the trees
    Up and down, chattering
    non-stop. Moles
    have tunnelled
    the lawn. The dog
    chases them in vain.
    It’s March and my tulips
    send up tender shoots
    pointy and green
    against dead leaves
    and winter’s other detritus.
    So, before buds
    are eaten away, hostas
    chomped to the ground,
    I put out poisoned rat cakes.
    My delicate as orchid sensibilities
    not at all horrified
    by the writhing deaths
    of chipmunks,gophers
    and other flower eating wildlife.

  2. Lovely Annie

    “Enough”

    “Enough!”
    she yells, flashing
    daggers from darkened eyes
    finally silencing the mouths
    that whisper ‘you are weak’ into her ear.
    Full of fear, yet still fierce, she speaks,
    “There’s no anger like this
    and blood isn’t
    enough.”

  3. NomiWrites

    The Most Dangerous Thing

    Thoughts
    Can start wars
    Can turn friends to foes
    Can make difference dangerous
    Silos seem to shelter missiles
    Thoughts are the true
    WMDs

  4. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    and the serpent said…
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    he bound my wrists and ankles with
    a flick of his tongue, rough with the
    saliva of a thousand piranhas.

    and although i can not see his actual head
    i can feel it in the shadows of my pupils,
    jaws large enough to swallow me whole.

    its iridescent green topside
    wrinkles pale underneath,
    its scales armored and menacing.

    blood rises to the surface of my
    face and neck with each squeeze,
    my lungs are on the verge of collapsing.

    “it’s out of your hands now,”
    he hisses, “ball is in play,”
    loved ones roulette through my brain.

    i can’t remember how i got to this point
    but i’m suddenly filled with remorse and guilt;
    it swishes like bile in my teeth.

    i fight and struggle to wake from this dream
    but know deep down i can never leave this place
    and that another will perish because of me.

    i have nothing left with which to bargain,
    my pride rolled the dice on that too.
    i hate that this serpent has bested me.

    © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  5. Marian O'Brien Paul

    Dangerous –

    Bookstores offer us all
    kinds of dangerous guides:
    The Dangerous Book for Boys
    and its necessary counterpart
    The Daring Book for Girls. For
    our canine friends, a parody –
    The Dangerous Book for Dogs.

    Those suffering demonic duress
    may seek aid from The Dangerous
    Book for Demon Slayers although
    exactly what’s between its covers
    I don’t know. On a different note
    perhaps someone ought to write
    The Dangerous Book for Poets.

  6. Mariya Koleva

    Oh, I am aware it is far too late for this, but I can’t help it. So: Day 14 – deadly and/or dangerous poem
    ***
    “So, life is deadly?” Amy asked
    Somewhat disappointed of it.
    “In fact, it is.” was my reply,
    As I drew a new breath of wine.

    And she looked, her smile empty,
    Confusion yelling from her eyes
    Then gripping at my throat.
    “So, life is deadly?” Amy asked.

    We sat like that, it seemed, for hours.
    I felt our bottle was never ending.
    The waitress often swept by us
    Somewhat disappointed by it.

    I got my glass to shatter, and so
    Waved the girl to come around.
    “Oh, is your bottle up already?”
    “In fact, it is.” was my reply.

    She stayed, then stared and laughed.
    So my Amy invited her over.
    I toasted, “Here’s to the meaning of life,”
    As I drew a new breath of wine.

    © 2011 Mariya Koleva

  7. seingraham

    Dangerous Beyond Belief

    Picture if you will, before first light
    In a park or a square, not unlike
    That place in China some years ago
    You remember the one – where
    The young man was photographed
    Facing off with the tank?

    The audaciousness of his courage
    Stayed in the minds of millions
    For all time and even now
    When people talk of bravery
    Of standing up to the status quo
    That image is mentioned …

    So when word of the raids
    On the “Occupy America” groups
    Began filtering through the land
    Leaking like silt into the streets
    Or half-heard whispers in the air

    Not too surprisingly, Tiananmen Square
    Came to mind for many
    And the image of that brave soul
    Was mentioned more than once
    In the vein of a cautionary tale
    Often followed by:
    “but nothing like that would
    happen here – not here …”

    Except – there are those who know
    From bitter recent experience
    That yes – something like that
    Could well happen here
    This place that has become
    Both dangerous and deadly

    Homeland security, while
    A well-meaning phrase and ideology
    Often holds oxymoronic qualities
    When concerning human rights
    In a country that prides itself
    As being the protector
    Of these very concepts

    So – before the night has fully departed
    And dawn not quite embraced day
    Storm-trooper-types scheduled to
    Will march in and indiscriminately
    Dismantle and disperse peaceful
    Protesters in large American cities
    Because? The reasons seem unclear—
    Their assemblage threatens
    the American way of life?
    So the story goes …
    Dangerous and deadly …

  8. Nikolas Varek

    Assassin

    silence
    sense of security
    suddenly shattered
    rustle of leaves
    ring of steel
    ripple of air
    spatter of red
    sting of pain
    scream of agony
    reel in shock
    roll to the grass
    relax all muscles
    slipping away
    shadows subside
    silence

  9. cstewart

    Dangerous

    She knew it was forbidden.
    She knew it drew her inexorable forward –
    She tried several ways to stop herself.
    She wanted to stop.
    She needed to stop.
    But she couldn’t help herself –
    Her steps moved forward.
    Now, at this moment –
    What she thought was the last fence,
    Between her and complete seduction,
    Was leaning to the right, then to the left,
    In the wind of this dramatic hurricane,
    That was her desire.

  10. Cara Holman

    Writers Beware ( a limerick)

    There’s a danger in writing too much
    with the world you become out of touch
    so beware of the pen
    put it down now and then
    lest your writing turn into your crutch.

    — Cara Holman

  11. Bruce Niedt

    Things that Can Kill You

    Lions, tigers, and grizzly bears,
    rickety ladders and slippery stairs,
    going skydiving with a bad chute,
    telling the Mafia you took their loot,
    a bungee cord that’s not short enough,
    cigarettes and alcohol – poisonous stuff,
    guns and knives and WMD’s,
    Cancer and AIDS and all kinds of disease,
    serial killers: Hannibal, Dexter,
    and the latest addition – the driving texter.

  12. onemanbandwidth

    Since it is always 10-12 PM here in China when I get the prompts I have to defer until morning or risk being awake all night….

    My shot at the prompt:

    Fireworks

    The naked belly of a bank of broken clouds

    Gleams in the sudden light of fireworks

    A rooftop display to celebrate creation

    Of another office building. Smoke Flowers

    They call them here: Shimmering waterfalls, a brief galaxy

    Spangling the night, bright blossoms dying too quickly

    From the inside out. What a concession

    It would be, my host says, to control the pyrotechnic sales

    Drive away bad spirits when graves are plowed open

    And then there are the weddings and funerals. I raise my glass

    And toast with the others to a new China.

    The waitress who looks familiar leans over to refill my glass

    She knows me. I remember her mother shined shoes

    In the shanty village where this building now resides

    And I feel dangerously lifted high into this night

    Early red dawn, then a meteor shower

    And the smell of faint gunpowder

    As the evening’s last sparks trickle down in silence

    Still blinded by the show and a little given over to the wine

    I point myself toward home. It stays quiet,

    Too quiet. Like a storm is coming.

    And I can barely stand, my heart

    Exploding again and again

  13. Iain Douglas Kemp

    The Beast that is “SHE”

    T he eyes glare and pierce
    like daggers
    nostrils flare as fear is sensed
    the tongue spits cold harsh words
    like venom
    the finger wags and scolds
    victory is hers
    it always was
    from the start the feeble male had no chance
    his love
    his devotion
    his kindness
    his sensitivity
    all count for nought
    as the female of the species
    rears up ready for the kill
    and all because
    he said
    “you look fine”

    Iain

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