DP: Evil Exists

It’s been a long time since I posted anything. There are reasons for that, but I will not go into them here. However, I saw the Daily Prompt today and it gives me the opportunity to at least reblog something. I hope you like this.

“Write about evil: how you understand it (or don’t), what you think it means, or a way it’s manifested, either in the world at large or in your life.”

Born of hell-fire
and firmament black;
evil incarnate
with devil made pact.

Gruesome in countenance
vicious in deed;
pleasure in flesh
that easily bleeds.

Fire and brimstone
the promise in truth;
freely corrupting
all passionate youth.

Unreasoning wickedness
creeping in sin;
blissfully freeing
the beast from within.

A killer at night-time
the darkness a friend;
not caring for righteous
sweet heaven forfend.

To sacrifice innocence
on alter of pain;
there’s nothing to lose
and a shadow to gain.

This cruelty embodied
that darkly persists;
gives proof to the concept
that evil exists.

Daily Prompt: Memory

I posted this a while ago, but wanted to update it to include it in the Daily Prompt.
“Which good memories are better — the recent and vivid ones, or those that time has covered in a sweet haze?”
Although it’s not clear whether vivid, newer memories or time-stained distant ones are better, I think this post shows how good memories can be. I hope you like it.

Come,
walk with me,
these dark and dusty halls
of memory.

Breathe,
remembered scent,
of perfume lightly misting
treasured skin.

Tones,
familiar music,
we danced in spinning circles
round the room.

Clear,
laughter ringing,
shattering the silence of
misery’s hold.

Peace,
arresting quiet,
the sound of passing breath
in gentle slumber.

Lost,
forever wandering,
through dark and dusty halls
of memory.

A Dog Named Bob

I wrote this for the Daily Prompt – although so far it’s not displayed!:
“You have 20 minutes to write a post that includes the words mailbox, bluejay, plate, syrup, and ink. And one more detail… the story must include a dog named Bob” I hope you like it. (It took me 15 minutes!)

The mailbox called with empty mouth,
No letters seen within,
And mocking bluejay ‘pon the branch,
Did commence to sing.

I thought about my precious heart,
Served to you on a plate,
Where was the love that we once shared,
Where come from, all this hate?

Oh damn these tears, as syrup stick,
To lashes of my eyes,
I told myself I would not grieve,
Nor cry about your lies.

My mailbox then will have a use,
I’ll use my own dark ink,
And send to you a letter wrote,
With words to make you think.

You stole from me that which I loved,
My heart you chose to rob,
I feel alone and sweetly lost,
Just like a dog named Bob.