Writing Club

As another Sunday draws to a close\ I wish again for more time to repose\ There will always be more goals to meet\ Chores to be done, promises to keep\ But I postpone all of those\ For the weekdays' hectic throes\ And slide back under warm covers to sleep

I trudge down long dirt roads with my dog nearly every day\ we often wander far and wide until twinkling stars appear\ Last night something lurking out there bade us come and play\ Shadow tried to turn tail but I clipped the leash and pulled her near\ \ Onward we strode, crossing overgrown trails\ Shadow dragging behind while I silenced her wails\ Stabbed by thick underbrush, I strangely felt no fear\ driven by fierce desire, carving into that wild frontier\ \ Faint moonlight crept through branches\ but shifting shadows made it hard to see\ A sudden rustling in shrub patches\ again sent my brave bitch trying to flee\ \ Then bright red eyes burst through the dark\ appearing, encircling, and congregating\ Gleefully returning Shadow’s frantic bark\ their numbers rapidly accumulating\ \ As my breath was ripped away\ recalled old nighttime terrors\ Forced to kneel and pray\ beaten for unruly errors\ \ But Mama, it wasn't my mistake last night\ making me the bloodthirsty beast of now\ All those admonishments borne from spite\ compelled me to paths you did not allow\ \ Shadow at first fought our transformation\ finally submitting without further fuss\ to forest freaks facilitating our aberration\ with sharp-toothed slices and claw cuts\ \ Tonight we are reborn, and lumbering towards your house\ hopefully the horrid howling drowns out your fearful shouts\ It will be good to kneel and pray together as a family once again\ and we'll remake your humble home into a lycanthrope's den

A stack of unfinished poems\ strewn across dusty floorboards\ Discarded dreams denied homes\ briefly adored but now ignored\ \ Upon scraps of crinkled papers\ scribbled stanzas so sincere\ In time whose promise tapers \ leaving their memory to disappear\ \ By damaged windows drift in drafts\ for this forum of found phantoms \ Judging the absent authors' crafts\ with attempting awesome anthems\ \ One distressed edge curls to reveal\ faint recollections of fragrant flowers\ At an age when trifles were ordeals\ and the greatest goal was superpowers\ \ Underneath are found a pair of elevens\ with a short ode to harmonic symmetry\ Sending this sentimental slice of heaven\ launched upward into air from obscurity\ \ Love conquers all but for the unblessed\ in this tale with ending not yet met\ Though will be revealed once possessed\ after abandonment delivers regret\ \ Below lies broken tender hearts laid bare\ that tried-and-true but typical display\ Tears soaked through sheets without a care\ words shrouded by smudges wiped away\ \ An angry roar as a bastard child is scorned \ on a floating fragment of inferred imagery\ Then a woeful wail for a parent mourned\ as an outcast orphaned simile\ \ This lonely land lies barren now\ its secrets seeking to be reclaimed\ Hoping someone someday somehow\ breathes life anew into affect unchained