NaPM April 04 2016

[QDeathstar]

Wreck

I remember my first
taste of whiskey, the burn
and the gut wrenching
after-taste.

I remember the feeling
of absolute euphoria
followed sharply by
a 12 year hangover.

I remember your last
laugh, your last smile -
your last painful breath.
No whiskey will let me forget.

[ellajam]

The Dusty Sock Under The Bed

The internet's a marvelous boon,
can't beat it for info and reference.
If interaction's your preference
somewhere on earth it's night or noon.

Quite sane or crazy as a loon
most treat new friends with deference
we find there's not much difference
between us, perched at the web saloon.

But misfits hide in masquerade,
each thinks himself the renegade;

suspicion keeps them set apart.
They're sleeping in the bed they've made
but we all share the price that's paid
when wary of the open heart.

[milo]

When I first heard the scratching at the door
I knew I shouldn’t answer
but I opened it and the night rain growled
and the thunder was my father’s face
in the dark sky and the wolf limped through
smelling like sour milk and old tires,
muddying the carpet with its blooded paws.
He took his place on the couch in the great room.

My daughter’s whimpers shake
her small body as she sits on my lap.
We watch her cartoons together now
on the floor pretending not to notice
the low snarl that gurgles up behind us.

At dinners, we keep the lights low
but the shadows are worse
and the pulse of its lungs scrapes
the air between us. We cannot leave
and we cannot speak of it
for it is one of us now.

[ellajam]

Milo, that gave me the shivers, makes me not want to know. good one.

[Achebe]

Milo - that's Poe twice over. Awesome.
Edit: the last line didn't appeal to me much. The fear disappears with the acceptance.
Did the guy murder his wife? Was the mother an angry suicide?
Love the creepy possibilities.

[milo]

My inspiration was domestic abuse (can't tell dog from wolf) and how we grow to just accept living in terror.

---

Thanks you two

[RiverNotch]

THE SEVENTH HOUR

It's that time of day again,
when my arms are cold
but my loins are cooking --

when every lady I see unchained
by childhood, wifehood, motherhood,
'sa mask to be tored off --

eyes plucked out,
noses chewed,
and mouths glewed shut --

[bedeep]

Ellajam, just read yours. Love it! The last stanza especially.

[ellajam]

Ellajam, just read yours. Love it! The last stanza especially.

Thanks, glad you enjoyed it, I'm hoping that by april 30 I'll have written one that I like. Ugh, can't get going.

[Keith]

Milo that last line is a killer finish to a great poem, it conveys that sense of being trapped superbly, very much enjoyed the whole, Keith

[milo]

Thanks, Keith !

[Todd]

Milo the imagery is spot on and its terrifying. If I'm being honest when I read something like that I wonder why I continue to write. Absolutely love the way you build tension and confinement in the last four lines.

[Todd]

Night Stories
 
When the house settles
and the floorboards breathe,
you can hear a rapping
on the furnace pipes,
a tapping in code
that must mean something.
If only you could listen,
but grandmother lies
in the stomach
of the wolf--
a bonnet tilted 
over one ear,
and his eyes
 
are empty
dinner plates,
his mouth
a row of knives,
to slice the skin
from little girls,
who leave
the forest path.
 
Time is skipping
faster now.
The moon oscillates
between hunger
and gluttony,
as your feet take root,
and you can’t help
but comment on grandmother’s
open mouth.