Quadrille #208 – Undead to the World
Hosted by dorahak
(Instructions: Welcome to dVersian votaries of the quadrille form, a 44-word poem original to dVerse whose only requirement other than word count is that you must include the word provided – VAMPIRE.)
He walks by day,
enters by night.
His bite not to your neck,
but tears right through your heart.
Beware the one with the piercing eyes,
a gentleman, a courtier, a polished man.
‘Til the lights go out and then you meet –
your doom!
She fell slowly, gracefully,
never giving in.
Never letting go,
her roots embedded deep.
Her roots embedded deep,
into the soil
of Mother Earth,
holding on to life.
Holding on to life,
defying deaths grip.
Relinquishing nothing
into the cloying arms of nothingness.
The cloying arms of nothingness
ate arduously at her thick roots.
Severing the tiny tendrils and outshoots
before going in for the killing blow.
The killing blow hit fast and hard,
the way hurricanes and bad weather do.
Where once the stately old tree stood proud,
now only her skeleton can be seen.
A whispering breath
utters cruel words
sorrow spreads
devouring dreams
rendering golden promises
into dust licked away by the wind
A mother stands motionless
a window in her kitchen
faces the raging river
rapids spin dangerous whirlpools
offering no escape except one
she watches the white gown descend
A flash of vanishing happiness
a soul blind with yearning and fear
A trip back along the vine of time
to the beginning where it once was strong
A tap to the tip of a turned up nose
a sigh of relief and it’s gone
Spin us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), containing some form or other of the word spin. In response to – dVerse Quadrille #204, hosted by De Jackson aka WhimzyGizmo, this week.
Be sure to make the popular choice
not loosing your hierarchical liberties
We can’t allow the power of greed
to turn back the wheels of time
Spinning all we have gained,
all we have built to spin reversed
by a swipe of his pen
She was sturdy and loyal and sure
for much longer than anyone knew
Age crept upon her body so slowly
adventurous miles kept her young
A rare model made with care and skill
not like the new ones of this time
Her body heavy and solid and sure
but still a lovely sweeping design
Her color once a vibrant blue
washed out by the sun and the rain
Had turned a worn sort of faded hue
the only sign of her extended years
A sputter here and a stall there
foretold the arrival of her impending end
A tune-up, some oil and little grease
kept her going another few miles
The day came when her engine went still
the mechanic shook his head and said
It’s the end for your old blue jeep I fear
watched her go with tears streaming down
Time crawls by
minutes drip slowly
into hours
Endless loops of waiting
aching for the rejoining
the return of life
No end in sight
hopeless days fade
into distraught nights
Awaiting the light
the return of warmth
the security of strong arms
An invisible shroud
placed upon my body
By fates or Gods or happen chance
I do not know nor ever will I
Perhaps I was meant to be
a great leader of nations
Bringing peace and goodwill
to a world turned so dark
Or a great warrior among women
vanquishing injustice and setting things right
Whatever it was that was preordained
has been circumvented by physical pain
Instead of fighting for good
in a world filled with effluent evil
I have been set to fight myself each day
with a smile to hide my grinding jaw
The floods came
unexpected, unannounced.
chasing the living
into death, into nothingness.
The sea, so beautiful and kind,
turned angry, turned malicious.
Water once dipped in cerulean blue,
covers the earth in blankets of red.
Vehicles of man tied to tar ribbons,
bob without direction,
without combustion,
atop debris laden rivers of waste.
Livestock no longer living,
rush past on fields of favored fodder,
an uneaten cache of bloated
sweet grass and hay.
Mother Earth in her glorious wonder,
provided well and took away.
Unable to sustain that which was given,
she will try again, but not on this day.
Up the street
and ‘round the corner
Sits an old log house
with only one room in her
Yellow warning signs
nailed here and there
Warn any trespassers
they had better beware
Cobweb squatters
fill every nook and cranny
Birds nests line beams
up high in the attic
Decades of dust carpet
the old wood floor
Where scuff marks once trailed
in and out of the door
Books no longer sit
upon the old cedar shelves
Built into the wall
some say by elves
But I know the truth
though I keep it to myself
This was Grandma’s schoolroom
where she taught us all to count
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 