poetry – Page 7

‘Tis the Creepy Season (some posts for such)

October 19, 2024October 20, 2024by Stephen J Frankenberry1 Comment

Not that you asked for it (I mean, who would?) but a handy dandy all in one spot, easy reference, to some things of mine for the Halloween season, oh, and watching some albino looking spider with a seeming translucent head scurry about the walls behind the PC who, I swear, is the same spider that was doing quick spidery translucent head scurry things at my desk at the Latham office yesterday and I think may have hitched a ride on something of mine because, well, I don’t know, he is here now and considers us pals?

“What’s up fleshbag?”

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From a creepy old Halloween pic meme a college friend posted …

… and a Dad looking for a costume for his kid at a Spirit Halloween store

Costumes Are Hard

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From a “Haunted Harvest” prompt at dVerse Poets and to write something of such, a Haunted Harvest, a poem in this case for me

Third Eye Harvest Moon

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A Frankenberry lost toenail story with blood and forgetting

If A Forgetful Serial Killer Lost A Toenail And Got Postcards

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A poem of a dead motel and truck stop I pass on my now thruway drive

Exit 21B

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A flash fiction prompt response with madness

Of Moms, Sons & Assorted Friends

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Another flash fiction response with a man in a black hat story

The Scrapbook And The Man In The Black Fedora

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And one more flash fiction prompt, this one of Death and the Groundskeeper

Headstone

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Scurry, scurry, scurry

“Really?”

“What? I’m a spider, it’s what I do. I scurry, plus, I have to figure my new surrounds here and people will, hopefully, be so engrossed with your stories of the season to not notice time spent on my part to prepare you”

“Prepare me?”

“Things ta do, webs ta spin, d’ya feel stuck yet? You’re just an extra large, blood filled, fly”

Third Eye Harvest Moon

October 3, 2024October 19, 2024by Stephen J Frankenberry10 Comments

In response to Merril’s “Haunted Harvest” prompt at dVerse poets.

“You can take the themes of harvest or haunted literally or use them metaphorically in any way you wish. Harvest grain, organs, fish, or emotions; imagine the grim reaper with a scythe. Write about something that haunts you, regret, a long-ago love, thoughts of someone who has died, or actual ghosts. Explore a haunted harvest”.

You may also use the painting above “The Harvest Moon” by Samuel Palmer as inspiration.

Took a little bit of both of these ideas …

Third Eye Harvest Moon

He woke in a long field itching

of tall blades and short hungry bugs

chilled but not cold wondering of from where that single pocked light

hung high

had fell

“From my third eye” said a voice

he sudden colding and chilled now

as there was no from where for a lone voice to fall

no trees above nor craggy hills distance

far called with walls

to call back

friend or foe

score or none

or even from rock tall

smoke black

altars he may have been layed upon

in the stark

back

then

You are man are you not?

I am?

Yes, you are

Then from why where do you ask?

To see if you knew

But I just woke, food for bugs in tall grass in almost dark task

save for one light

high hung

right

Will you rise and pay threshed tithes

under my third eye

Why?

It is that time of harvest, of tall grasses wrapped with long blades twined

tribute

in the richness of grains

… and the harvest of souls

From why where must you have mine after such riches?

Because you are the first and quench a stronger thirst

Shaggy Attic Craft (poem)

February 13, 2024February 15, 2024by Stephen J Frankenberry13 Comments

So a new dVerse Poets prompt was this here in this link to the site and the latest challenge … to write something maybe imagined being written in stone, to write a poem, as Rita Dove was commissioned to do for the Folger in D.C. (again, check the link for explanation) for a walled entrance that addresses and welcomes visitors into a space of your choosing … if necessary, give us a couple of lines prefacing the poem as to what type of space the poem is welcoming us into.

Well, this is from the buying of a house 16 years ago with an ex and the Attic of the place and what was left there and what eventually became my blog. Not that I hadn’t written anything before, obviously, but I just hadn’t found a spot to house them yet, literally Frankenberry’s Attic to start with then ..

Shaggy Attic Craft

Its carpet was old

shaggy

littered with left beads

bits of string and cloth

leavings surely missing

what their sacrifice had become

for new cloth

in the Attic of an old house

bought with new promise

once

someone created here