Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
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Haiku
message 6451:
by
M
(new)
Oct 02, 2014 05:38AM
(Both of these are excellent!)
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In a gloomy bend,a leaf in a slow eddy
marks a steamboat’s grave.
Thanks Ryan and M! I appreciate that! :DAnd also M great wordplay, always rich with imagery and narrative all in a small amount of syllables. How do you do it? Always great.
The blues band in blackWas walking by the river
Banked by fall's sere leaves.
Autumn undresses,shyly fingers her bare knees,
slides arms from pied sleeves.
Summer’s caresses
lie as dust in arteries
of squall-scattered leaves.
Beyond the wrought gate,
she wakes in a marble room
when twilight brings dew.
She peers through the grate
as a Maxfield Parrish gloom
pastels an old yew,
her dreamed voice the noon
warmth, a name on lichened stone,
a brick path weeds choke,
or the rusting moon
of a restless sleep’s dial tone,
a drought’s looming smoke.
M, what spectacular writing. Freshly described and vibrant images. That final stanza - wow!Well done, Al. I wouldn't know where to start, trying to follow writing of that calibre. You continued it beautifully.
Beautiful and engaging writing, Alex and M! Great start to my day. Thank you.
From deep forest poolsdoe eyes rise, seeking meaning
a huntsman takes aim.
The hunter's brown eyesRead the green grass's movements
But not the black bear's.
A scandal writer,upstager, and backbiter
was Ursa Major.
An October breezestrained the pirate ship’s rigging,
whispered down hatchways.
A blood-spattered moon
ochred railings and the latch
of the tavern door.
Excellent, M!
October breeze broughtleaves to share its collection
of varied color.
The gust-driven rains,in blurring sheets, swirled down drains
of the murky streets.
In this dark rainstormThe fall leaves leave tired sere limbs
And plug city drains.
Great imagery on these last few. Good stuff :)
The rat-a-tat-tatstrafing his worn umbrella
awakens dark thoughts.
Also evocative Ryan's. [And M, why did you delete yours?!]
(When I attempted to improve it by taking out the shabby parts, I was left with an empty comment box.)
Wulfric had eatenhis Wheaties. His fat wife screamed,
but no entreaties,
no supplication,
could halt Nelda’s imminent
defenestration.
Mid-heave she got stuckon the sill. Half in, half out
Nelda lies there still.
A banshee, howling
in vain. Wulfric now calls her
a real window pain.
Drunkards who stumbledthrough alley trash, maids hanging
out laundry, could hear
her bellow, where she
stuck through the sash. Belched Wulfric, “She’s
a pane in the rear.”
With winter chill, camea stutter. Two birds, one stone;
Wulf closed the shutter.
Wulf liked his burgersthick and well done, with onions,
mustard, and mayo,
as did his monster-
fighting son, a mead-hall bum
his pals called Beo.
Beowulf, bloodshedliked too much; even ate burgers
bloody and rough.
He burned caloriessacking towns but grew rotund
from eating hash browns.
Worse than 'Witnesses'he would barge houses shouting
"I am Beowulf!!"
When lure of loot broughtthundering hooves, townfolk fled
from the Beowulves.
When Grendel grumbledThe Geats got going but fumbled
On the ten yard line.
The fans stood cheeringin the seats when Grendel ate
the last of the Geats.
And when they re-satThe fans reclined with a smile,
And belched their pleasure.
Some said that Grendeldropped the ball. He should have watched
his cholesterol.
Nobody warned him
of the effects of eating
cheeseburger daily.
of the effects of eating
cheeseburger daily.
His mother was goneDuring his formative years
And so they were lost.
Grendel’s gridironcareer was wrecked. He soon grew
feeble and waxen
even in the scrolls
of a long-lost dialect
of Anglo-Saxon.
Rexford never tiredof extolling the allure
of online bowling,
a lifestyle of chips
and cola, till he almost
died of e-bowla.
He was on the ball,A chip off the old man's block,
A head bound head case.
Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company!
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