No Lovin’ In The Coven

Wherever I’d venture to go,
I’d always hide my little toe,
It’s nail curved at an odd angle,
And it seemed like it was mangled.

One day while I was at the gym,
By some unforeseen happening,
I’m telling you I was in shock,
To find I had forgot my sock.

A girl looked at my toe quite stunned,
Called to her friends, “She is the one.”
And then, without much discussion,
I was the leader of a coven.

At first we had a lot of fun,
We conjured spells from dusk to dawn,
But then I got a little bored,
With eye of newt and toe of frog.

But when to my friends I did say,
“I think I need a small vacay,”
It seems they did not take it well,
And wanted me condemned to hell.

And with this news I was bereft,
I thought that we were BFFs!
They tried to tie me to a stake,
I thought it best to make a break.

So I just had a thought ad hoc,
Said ‘Hot warlock at 10 o clock!”
And when they all looked to the right,
I stole away into the night.

So if a spooky girl comes round,
Please tell her I can not be found,
And let us again never talk,
Of what came of a forgotten sock.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/the-butterfly-effect/

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A Girl’s Guide To Dating Ghouls

I used to date a vampire,
I tell you that man was fine,
I told him “You can bite my neck,
Just about any old time!”
Sadly my folks did not approve,
With regret my heart did break,
When they told me to find a man,
Who enjoyed mom’s garlic steak.

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So then I dated a werewolf,
And though for words he lacked,
I tell you that he really was,
An animal in the sack.
But that too came to a sad end,
And it was his decision,
After I subtly recommended,
A local esthetician.

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So then I dated a zombie,
Not a great situation,
But I guess after the werewolf,
It was out of desperation.
But he was really very sweet,
So I tried not to complain,
Until once after nibbling my ear,
I caught him eying my brain.

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And these forays into romance,
I suppose you might question,
But I was only following,
My dear mother’s suggestion.
Maybe this was not exactly,
What mother did envision,
But for now I’m afraid I’ll stick,
To artists and musicians.

The Picture

That painting on my grandma’s wall,
Oh, it made me leery,
Supposedly a cute young boy,
Yet I thought it eerie.

The smile wasn’t a smile,
But much more of a leer,
And I could barely look at it,
Without shaking with fear.

I never caught it in the act,
Yet somehow I did know,
That it’s blue eyes would follow me,
Wherever I would go.

I stayed over at granny’s house,
On that dark fateful night,
And I could barely catch a wink,
So filled was I with fright.

That boy’d be waiting for me,
Surely he’d want me dead,
He was camped out in the closet,
Perhaps under the bed.

Until I knew I had enough,
And I could take no more,
I forced myself out of the bed,
And opened up the door.

I took the painting off the wall,
Before thinking things through,
I bent the boy over my knee,
The picture was in two.

But that was not enough, I was
emotionally scarred,
So I just took that picture out,
With me to the backyard.

And further I destroyed the piece,
‘Til all of it was splinters,
And just then it occurred to me,
How fit it was for tinder.

To what was left I lit a match,
A lesson it would learn,
Never to bother me again,
As I would watch it burn.

And then so back to bed I went,
Done with the horrid chore,
Where such a pleasant sleep I had,
As never had before.

Awoken with a dreaded thought,
Oh, to be convincing,
When granny asked if I knew,
Why that picture was missing.

But when I came downstairs I saw,
I needn’t fret at all,
Because I saw the picture hung,
Right back there on her wall.

After writing my last post, Abigail Biggs’ Pig, comedy blogger extraordinaire, Phil Taylor, suggested that I write a horror themed poem every day until Halloween. I don’t know if I can keep up with the timeline, but I am trying to keep up with the theme. This is my second installment.

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Abigail Biggs’ Pig

Living in Massachusetts,
Here in 1693,
No secret that the neighbors,
Weren’t very fond of me.

I wasn’t much for kind words,
Or roosters that crowed at dawn,
Or the way their animals,
Went grazing on my lawn.

But I guess my biggest gripe,
Was with old Abigail Biggs,
Who couldn’t seem to control,
The behavior of her pig.

Every day I’d say to her,
“Abigail this can not be,
You’ve got to keep your dumb swine,
The hell off my property!”

But Abbey wouldn’t listen,
And back on my lawn he’d tread,
Until one day that dumb old pig,
He dropped right over dead.

But I saw her little kids,
Outside the day before,
Where they fed poison ivy,
To that unsuspecting boar.

Those kids should have been punished,
For being such little brats,
But instead, next thing I knew,
I was in jail for witchcraft.

And while I was in prison,
Abigail would catch my sight,
I said, “I didn’t do this,
Please say something, make it right!”

But Abigail ignored me,
So I continued to yell,
“You know the good Lord sees you,
And He’ll send you straight to hell!”

But after months of waiting,
Finally the bell would toll,
And there I was facing down,
My old friend the Gallows Pole.

I looked to my audience,
It’s a lucky thing I did,
When I spied no other than,
My dear friend Abigail Biggs.

I gave her my best evil eye,
Which she could not ignore,
Yet it was a might too late,
When she timidly came forth.

The rope tightened on my neck,
And my arms began to twitch,
She said “I think you misheard me,
The word I used was b-“

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/genre-blender/

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That Day I Was A Waitress

imgres-10“Is this your first time?
It’s not simple you see,”
But I lie thinking,
“Oh, how hard can it be?”

The next thing I know,
I’m there waiting in line,
As orders go past,
That I’m not sure are mine.

I can’t balance trays,
The servings are askew,
The meatloaf for 6,
Is found at table 2.

Then a woman says ,
“Remove this carrion!
Don’t you know I’m
Strictly vegetarian?”

I run down to her,
Then another mishap,
The ice cream for 4,
Is in table 10’s lap.

Just a small concern,
As I fear for my life,
The chef comes at me,
With a large butcher knife.

No time for small talk,
As I run for the door,
Perhaps I’m just not,
Well cut out for this chore.

This working with food,
Just makes me too nervous,
But one lesson learned,
Folks, please tip your servers.

15 Minutes

The show started out on a high note,
Till they called forth the entertainers,
They criticized her performance,
And said that her ‘life’ was in danger.

And though she tried hard to smile,
And struggled to keep it together,
A shaky song portrayed a girl,
Of which her nerves had got the better.

So she faced a judging panel,
Imposing figures who all did frown,
As they told her just how badly,
Her last performance had let them down.

Then they thrust a mike in her face,
Assuring no one could accuse her,
An off key version sang through tears,
So they’d not think her a sore loser.

And so thwarted at all attempts,
And hopes of being rich and famous,
She returns to a simple life,
Of making ends meet as a waitress.

Noticing the furtive elbows,
Under the tables, the discreet kicks,
Of those who recognize the girl,
Who was defeated by Taylor Hicks.

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The Belle of The Ball

I went out last night to party,
I really lived it up,
The ultimate belle of the ball,
I just can’t say enough.

My remarks wise, my advice sage,
My retorts fun, sassy,
I was coy, cool and flirtatious,
Yet I kept it classy.

I cut the rug on the dance floor,
So graceful and fluent,
As if Michael Jackson himself,
Guided every movement.

And when the time came to go home,
They begged me for my keys,
They were silly to have worried,
For I made it home with ease!

But now I have an aching head,
Can’t find my car at all,
And I’m wondering why my friends,
Will not return my calls.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/the-unreliable-narrator/

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