Posts Tagged dark

ODOP: Her Leisure

See “Lady” Wakem, at her leisure –
Had a seamstress couldn’t please her.
Had a husband couldn’t squeeze her.
Got her papers, left the geezer,
Rejoiced the day of Bitsy’s seizure,
And starved her dog. By name of Caesar.
She yapped her way into her freezer,
Was found too late by Ebenezer
(A doc too fond of anti-wheezer).
Tried a mallet, tried a tweezer,
Tried a hacksaw, couldn’t ease her.
Local art-types sought to lease her –
And now throws up all them that sees her.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George

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ODOP: You Are Here

Arrived in this place for the pretext of dental work,
And you claim not to have known
Paradise is on the other side of this wall,
And they have even supplied a door,
Ill-disguised by dangling green,
Narrow enough for the soul that more desires
Happiness than humanity.

You go in first, while I go insane.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George

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ODOP: The Frank Lady to Her Handsome Naive Man-Friend

My first-line prompt turned out to be from Louise Gluck’s “The Untrustworthy Speaker.”

Don’t listen to me; my heart’s been broken
Twice too often, and, left with this bloody token
Of expired promises, I quite naturally leap
For the bloody solution, but keep
Your hands clean. Go home, make nice,
And kiss her. Let she who is free from vice
Chuck the first stone and all that rot—
And, why, that’s me. But you’d do better not
To gamble your soul and embitter your precious
Heart. To you alone her flesh is
Sancrosanct, but not to all us others—
This? Oh, no, it’s my dear dead mother’s.
My admirable ex-husband never bought me a ring,
Just this well well-sharpened sword that I took the liberty to bring.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George

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ODOP: untitled

A week of prompts! Today’s was “hazy” and “Was it out of love or malice?”

Now that the floods of blood
surround me, staining boots and
ragged hem, I find you
tempted to plead me
helpless, a soul caught
in the heat of emergency, my motives
ghosts made hazy in the desperate alarm.
They spit, call me skullcrusher,
doomslayer, unreckonable fool,
to see if I claim revenge,
or dare to claim humanity; but
the stars are shining clear now
and the murderer won’t play.

I did it because it was
the only thing to do. And I was there.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George

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ODOP: Questing Time

A very rough draft, but I think it shows promise. Constructive criticism very much appreciated on this one, it’s going to go through a lot of rewrites.

Dolphine, in the act of naming,
received her curse: waking and sleeping,
she’d hear the rush of
the Daffer’s blood in her head

a moody child, and an awkward teen
a strange and foreign weight in her lungs
not even in her sleep free of it
slowed as she was with echoes of hatred

the sage came, came one of those few
days she could work for her keep in the fields
and she left her scythe and ran to him
and pled for the power to clean her head

“Not even — much less — the Daffer’s death
a cure; unless it be by your own hand.
if another takes him first, unlikely thing,
his part in you does conquer you. Take my sword.”

the indignation! the almost-tears!
the words which she scorned them with
and stomped her feet, and swept
from them, and vowed her own pacific quest

travailed caves and dunes and magic things
sacred cups, and wicked waters
she hiked barefoot and supplicant
until in the mountainside she found

spiky ancient letters
confirming her hopes
of a mystic and fleshless solution
that insipid modernity had forgot

that the common folk had forgot
and cast away in tale
that her wise teachers had hid from her
for their own mislead whys

going further, going deeper,
she found the headdress of the sage
and placed it over her own
twin ears, and waited only to find

the pulse of Daffer’s magnified
till hers synced with it, with him —
the lord of darkling hatreds
loathed throughout the countryside

feared through the green country!
raged against even by the sickly,
tattered, twisted remains
of his own soul

love your neighbor as yourself
now, battled in warm soul-spittle,
only dead, dressed in cypress,
beatless and breathless, could she love herself

She sharpened her knife and
went to the sage and
placed a dry kiss on his feet.
He hit her with it, had her sharpen it right.

He taught her how to angle one’s hit,
to roll and dive, and bite one’s lip,
to parry lies with liars (and, worse,
with truthful souls), and how with a string

and a hook to unlock hidden things,
to bite one’s other lip, and kill
to fight by the stars, and track by night…
and sent her forth like a rat to the wheel

and oh it was exciting but foregone
how she brought down his guards with sickness,
put a merely crooked man in his place
after she stabbed him nine times in the chest

and she is gracious now and graceful
and if her mind is like a dry wind
and her heart’s unwarmable
at least her blood is quiet now, and she does sleep

this ends the tale of Dolphine
who, ten years before the death
of the prince, rejected the violence of our sages
but found it again

Oh, yeah, and the names suck; I welcome those suggestions most of all. Copyright 2010 Jobey George.

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ODOP: Joanna Tutored

We’re all born innocuous,
Breadloves, kicking and fleshy.
It’s amazing what can happen
When fourscore other people die.

A princess’s entire education—
The Latin, the music, the geography—
Is based on what might happen
Should fourscore others die.

Joanna learns the precision
Of dancing and the quickness of French.
One must be a good queen,
If fourscore others fail.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George. Nothing here is historically accurate. Nothing.

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ODOP: During Some Street Riot of Great Political Significance

swift-swallowing bird
freed from the petshop
you’ll never build a nest

kitten-litter!
three-fourths due for
death by trampling, death by cold —
the survivors will be mean and sleekly arrogant

dog unbound
go run to the park and grow shaggy

gerbils, fuzzy gerbils
scurry en masse like a wave down the street
in city pockets
they will breed empires

but the fish struggle
in their puddles
until they’re still, and make them stink

Copyright 2010 Jobey George. This poem was inspired by the latest poem on Four and Twenty, Tim Galati’s Diner Mouse.

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