Somewhere, stark in lunar light
A werewolf wakens from a wight,
And creeps throughout the sleepy night
To give his fellow creatures fright.
Somewhere, hapless sot alone
Through forest stumbles toward home,
Types panicked text on shaking phone.
Somewhere, werewolf gnaws on flesh-ripped bone.
For Go Dog Go Cafe Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge.
Here’s a tanka (syllable count 5/7/5/7/7) for Colleen (The Faery Whisperer)’s Tanka Tuesday challenge:
Verdant creature cropped,
For sacred holiday chopped,
Corpse on my car flopped,
With drip-pan fragrant blood sopped,
With smiling angel I top.
(Disclaimer: Most years, the wife and I buy a fresh Christmas tree and enjoy the fragrance of its sap.)
First published on https://poetscornerblog.wordpress.com. By a weird quirk (not my intent) it somehow became sticky there, possibly to the annoyance of other posters, and to unstick it, I had to unpost it (make it a draft). Normal options did not work. But it was Liked enough to keep it posted somewhere. 🙂
Deep in sleepy Umbria,
Entombed in gravel pit,
The corpses of a host of children
Rot amidst the grit.
A thousand years and more they’ve lain
Inside this soul-less grave,
Blameless victims of a plague
Whom physic could not save.
Bound inside their thready shrouds
From fear that they might stir,
Their curse-less mouths were stuffed with stones
From feeding to deter.
Undisturbed they might have lain
Until the world’s demise,
But now an archaeologist
Unearths them–now they all arise!
The dust-clad waifs shake limbs from shroud
And spit away the stones,
Awake with gnawing hunger
To re-flesh their fetid bones.
En masse they set out for the town
On human blood to binge.
Insult of a thousand years
These vampires shall avenge!
Inspired by these articles about stones placed in corpses’ mouths, ostensibly to prevent them from returning and feeding upon the blood of the living:
(image from: https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation-now/2018/10/15/italy-child-vampire-burial-eerie-ritual-prevent-malaria/1645690002/)
I gobbled overmuch;
Now like a turkey I am stuffed.
Cram-fed with yams and such,
And pumpkin pie with cream home-fluffed,
To walk I need a crutch.
At least my healthy waistline’s buffed.
Well, it’s time to grab my clutch—
Black Friday calls, and she is rough.
WordPress daily writing prompt (highlighted above).
Rhymes of horror, just in time for the holiday season. And it’s not just for Halloween!