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2011 Poetry Theme Challenges

#15 The Good, the Bad and the Ugly




Hello Poets;

Humans by nature are habitual. Some like smoking are not particularly good for us, others such as waste recycling are good for the planet as a whole. Whatever it is we all have them so the challenge is to write about our habits - whether good or bad.

A Study of Reading Habits

When getting my nose in a book
Cured most things short of school,
It was worth ruining my eyes
To know I could still keep cool,
And deal out the old right hook
To dirty dogs twice my size.

Later, with inch-thick specs,
Evil was just my lark:
Me and my coat and fangs
Had ripping times in the dark.
The women I clubbed with sex!
I broke them up like meringues.

Don't read much now: the dude
Who lets the girl down before
The hero arrives, the chap
Who's yellow and keeps the store
Seem far too familiar. Get stewed:
Books are a load of crap.

Philip Larkin

Happy Quilling and Blessings to All

Jem
XXXX




The Good, the Bad and the Ugly



Divena Collins

Devil Woman
Lozen; Indian Warrior Woman
Stampede

Ryter Roethicle

Confession

Liz Rule

Child
Old Woman



Divena Collins

Devil Woman

Black the sun has burned the sky
While deep in purgatory shall go I
In a dark abyss of wanton shame
The moon shall never be the same;
A temptress of the darkened night
I shall dance with the devil tonight.

Live to die within smouldering arms
Cannot escape those evil charms
Defence is low,but hot with desire
Deep in the heat of a burning fire.;
A temptress of the darkened night
I shall dance with the Devil tonight.

Unto this demon of wilful corrupt
Red hot ashes of sin shall erupt
Wild are the passions of fiery lust
Ashes are ashes as dust is to dust
A temptress of the darkened night
I shall dance with the devil tonight.



-----

Lozen; Indian Warrior Woman

I bring love to all men the warrior woman said
I fight no more through tranquillity I shall tread
Perfect peace shall be thine for thy final quest
No more shalt I suffer this hatred in my breast;
Within this green valley I now save my identity
Pray for my tribe towards peace and serenity.

No longer shalt victory be written on my scroll
To quench this thirst of slaughter in my soul
For this unrelentless feeling within an icy chill
Surrenders unto peace with love and good will;
Within this green valley I now save my identity
Pray for my tribe towards peace and serenity.

Passed is the song of the opposed war prattle
That groweth distant from the drums of battle
Far from battlefields of such torture and pain
Of a troubled mind that rendered me insane;
Within this green valley I now save my identity
Pray for my tribe towards peace and serenity.



-----

Stampede

Crazy horses stampede in the wild
Frenzied eyes with a fear beguiled
Forest fires were burning so fast
Advances forth their futures to cast
Thundering hooves on a dusty track
Must go on for there`s no going back.

Wild horses with an inborn manic
Breath of foam from a fiery panic
Charging forth in a wild stampede
A steadfast mustang takes the lead
Thundering hooves on a dusty track
Must go on for there`s no going back.

Galloping forth towards the great river
For water alone is their only life giver
A smaller herd now but all is not lost
For all that is left shall count the cost
Thundering hooves on a dusty track
Must go on for there`s no going back.




Ryter Roethicle

Confession

I wish the hard years were behind me now,
For a long time I have abandoned dreams,
To plan and look ahead I will not allow
I have forsaken love, and romantic schemes.
I have counted my many scars and wounds
And nights staring at bottles on a barroom wall
Days a sober blur trying to deafen the spirit call
But giving in finally to the bottles siren sounds.
Each time I succumb I am less and less a man
The devil inside hides but still fulfils my needs
And I sink further down as on my soul he feeds.
Somehow I need to grasp some kind of plan
Something that will help rather than destroy me
I know I need a dream that only I can see.

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Liz Rule

Child

Is not
a child,
a bright-eyed
child,
a torrent
of energy
to be leashed
to the service
of self-destruction
by a society
of thinly-veiled
hate?

-----

Old Woman

The old woman sits
in the cold chimney corner,
rocking the cradle
of her disillusionment,
surrounded by ashes
of lost hope,
clutching her black shawl
of self-pity.

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