Poetry

Without Question

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Word of the Day Challenge: Flexibility

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Tell her how to wear her hair

and she will cut and hack and paint it whatever color

you think is best.

 

Tell him he has spoken out of turn

and he will tear out his tongue, gouge out his eyes

if you think it’s for the best.

 

Tell them what is hot, what is cold

how far to run, when to sit and stand and they will do it

without question, if you tell them it’s for the best

 

because they are so much smarter then

me and you

without question.

Supper Is Late

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RDP Wednesday Prompt: Fright

Emil Carlsen

In a small dark room

with dusty plaster walls

spiders watch from the rafters

and mice listen from inside the walls

to a  green eyed woman named Edith

and her eyeless son  Ferdinand

and the ghosts that haunt the halls

of this dark and lifeless home.

 

Inside  their small dark room

there’s  a picture on the wall

of ripe and glistening fruit

waiting to be touched, tasted and devoured.

 

Ferdinand can’t see it

and Edith can all but smell it

but neither cares much for it

because what they long to feast on is

 

Downstairs at the front door.

 

“Knock on  the door a little louder, I think I saw a light in the window upstairs. ” one

voice says

Another chimes in, ”  Nobody lives in this falling down old place, lets just go in. ”

 

” Dinner. ” says Edith.

” Desert”  says Ferdinand.

” A sumptuous repast  ” say the Ghosts  ” at last”

 

 

 

 

 

The Resting House

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Word of The Day Challenge: Repose

Photo by Julia Volk on Pexels.com

The boards were rough and worn

when I found them , abandoned in the field

far away from where I live,

late last Spring.

 

I wondered,  had they been part

of a happy home? A  warm house?  Had

these walls been hung with pictures of smiling people and  gently  ticking clocks?

Were there little marks on the doorframe to show how tall the children grew?

 

I picked them up and took them far away

from where they used to live to my somber home, my  charnel home

where I will hang them with pictures of people I don’t know  and the clocks

run like mad and the children don’t grow and nobody haunts  the fields here

but me.

The Flower Thief

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Inspired by Linda G Hill’s Consciousness Saturday Prompt: Day/week/month/year

Photo by Jeffrey Czum on Pexels.com

There was a knock on the door,

I opened it, you smiled

wrong house you said, you have pretty eyes you apologized

the wind blew the door shut after you walked away that day,  not me.

 

I opened a window and called out hello

you stopped turned around waved

and called who’s there, it’s me I said pushing the curtains away,

it was  morning, it was Spring it was starting to rain.

 

I planted  flowers

you cut them down

I never noticed until they were all gone, the bees cried a little

when they came for them at dawn.

 

A day, a month, a week a year

you saw me in the blink of an eye

a shadow in a garden, a misty figure in a hall.

I saw you forever, I always will.