An ominous February mood claims my heart. As I stand over my lover’s grave. Her self-dug grave. Why did she? Have to go and do that? You know that thing with her knuckles, that irritates me so. The sound of cracking knuckles pushed me over the edge.
If we lived in the Arctic or Antarctic, I would not have to bury her. The snow and ice would hide her remains. The snow would be the easy way out of hiding her body. But no, it’s a cold snowy February day in Norfolk. Our footprints have already led the police to us, the handcuffs locking on my wrists.
My father would crack his knuckles, just before giving me a beating. Mainly for stopping him from starting on mum. I was not caught for his murder. That was justice for mum. This is my lover’s justice.
Written for #dverse prosery prompt. Where we have been challenged to write a flash fiction based on and to include a chosen line from a poem. The line chosen by our host this evening Kim was “Snow would be the easy way out.” From the poem #Novemberforbeginners. By #RitaDove.
MODERN TEACHINGS. War Negates War. (Inspired by the anti war song Zombie by the cranberries)
*Another, mothers breaking, * Heart is taking over. (#) What are we Teaching with (#) war, (#) greed destruction and death, Who/what/when/why are we teaching, Teaching our children.
(#) Defending weapon merchants with their guns, Time after time after time, (#) Selling out our children’s lives, Teaching them, *with their tanks and their bombs and their bombs and their guns
(#) Ostracise the weapons dealers, the war mongers and the hawkers of death. Stop teaching that guns are good, that guns are good. Teach how to love not to hate, not to hate, not to hate.
(#) Why are we Teaching greed, time and again, time and again, Following merchant gods of wars, Gods of wasteful life.
Who are we fooling, not the children, (#) not the mothers with their hearts breaking.
(#) killing the children, and their mothers and their brothers Just to Feed the monetary rich, morally poor.
(#) Why oh Why are we? (#) Ostracise the sellers of death and destruction. Teach how to share love.
(#) Why are we Teaching wars death and destruction, Who are we killing our children for? Who are you dying for? Not them not us.
(#) defending their violence with your guns and your bombs and your children’s lives Why are we? *With their tanks, and their bombs, and their bombs, and their guns. Thanks, Dolores, for your words to the world.
his all at #dverse i have reworked an old poem from 2018 that i wrote trying to imagine what it would be like to have a split personality with only two voices in head. the original version is a favourite at open mic nights and spoken word events when i read it.
LUNATIC
The lunatic must die, the lunatic must die, Friendly to me, myself and I, Once was he, the other voice, In my mind he lived until his discharge, I heard nothing from him in a decade or two. Who awoke my inner demon, After he executed my childhood babysitter, Her bloody hands around my throat they found, We joined forces in one voice occasionally, Two decades behind bars we had bought ourselves.
(Dramatic pause)
Till my wedding night, absent was he. “How dare we marry her your me!” Green eyed with envy of my true love was he, This lunatic must depart this life of mine, We are no a collective no more. My wife we did garrotte, on my wedding night, Our unborn offspring perishing with her. His giggles rumbling around our head.
(Dramatic pause)
My hearts blood on our hands when they died, Together for ever we will be, Off his rocker racing into my melancholy, Went our inner lunatic, self Fatherhood not for him, not for me, not for us.
(Dramatic pause)
His lunacy matching mine, as he watches, My lunacy matching his collective complete, This world from these our blue eyes. I know the lunatic must die, He knows I must die, The lunatic must die with me, the lunatic must die, The collective must die, As we leap in front of the train on my wedding night, Joining the lunatic’s afterlife, Haunting all those who would be like me, myself and I. Haunting all those who would be like us, ourselves and we.
Thanks Merrill for tonight’s tasty prompt @ #dversepoetspub. here are both my recipe for one of my favourite soups to have on cold days,. and a poem just for the prompt.
tonight at #dverse poets pub we have been asked to write a poem inspired by one of three suggested poems. I have chosen to take my inspiration from Siegfried Sassoon after reading Bjorn poem inspired by the same poem. a link to which is below.
perspective poetry 
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