Mind Games

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I’m climbing steep grades
Gets steeper as I go up
No way to go down

Head off back of pillow…

My mind floated through
Struggles from the past // long gone
Woke to a new day

Glad dreams aren’t reality
Reruns seem real while asleep

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today is Quadrille Monday once again and Mish, at d’Verse, asked us to use the word steep as a prompt. That got me dreaming and this poem evolved in my mind! A quadrille of exactly 44 words.
Join us at d’Verse: https://dversepoets.com

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Black Crow Awakening

crow sillouite

Today I am attempting a Renga poem for Frank Tassone’s Haikai challenge. He asked us to write a Haikai poem of our choice that included crow’s first call. A Renga is usually more humorous in nature and often composed by two or more people each adding a verse. I hope I have done it justice!

Bad dreams awake me
Incessant cawing won’t stop
Outside my window

Black crow’s obnoxious racket
Creeps loudly through my pain(pane)

I lift the window
Yelling loudly at the crow
Crow ignores my fuss

I shout and bang on the pane
Breaking glass falls at my feet

My toe is bleeding
Frustration drowns out the pain
I reach for my gun

With shells in my hand I load
A bullet in the barrel

A loud gunshot fired
Black crow quickly flies away
My shot went awry

Hitting nothing but blue sky
Black crow flew back as I cried

On blood marked carpet
I tiptoed to the bathroom
Getting a band-aid

I wrapped up my toe tightly
Black crow perched laughing loudly

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Print of crow: Bing/pintrest

Join us at: https://frankjtassone.com/2019/01/05/haikai-happenings-68-1-5-19-first-raven-crow-cryhatsugarasu-haiku-senryu-haibun-tanka-haiga-renga/

Monsters

Old House

Monsters in My Sleep

Locked away

Creaking green monsters

Make noises

Dry hinges

Waking me out of my sleep

Frightening me to death

*

Eerie sounds

From behind chimney

Frightened boy

Hearing ghosts

Visions of creepy monsters

Screaming calls for mom

*

Woke from sleep

Wiping cheese from eyes

Comes to me

Assures me

There’s no such thing as monsters

Must be this old house

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Amaya came up with a unique and interesting prompt for our d’Verse Poetry Pub.  She asked us to write a poem using the  Shadorma form which has six line stanzas and a syllable pattern of 3-5-3-3-7-5.  The concept is something that is elusive… perhaps paranormal… there but not there…something you cannot put your finger on. I chose to write about an experience of waking up at night, hearing creaking noises and imagining green ghosts in the walls, and calling for my mom.

Come join us at:  https://dversepoets.com/

Nightmares

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Bad Dreams

Driving into the darkness

The fog closes in around me

I see nothing but pitch black

But I’m still moving

I look for a way to stop

Nothing seems to work

And I am still moving forward

Driving up the hill

The slope gets steeper and steeper

Two-Thirds of the way to the top

Cannot go any further

I stop stranded in mid-climb

Can’t turn around

Can’t back up

It is time for school to start

I am not in my classroom

All the students are there

I keep trying to find my way there

I never get there

I know I ‘m late in a panic

Can’t seem to find my way

What am I going to do

I wake up!!!

Head way back over my pillow

I’ve got to go to the bathroom

Nightmares go away

My heart is still beating wildly

Adrenalin still pumping