September Challenge: "Deceit"
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  1. #1

    September Challenge: "Deceit"

    The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by Pete_C is: Deceit

    You are free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish, though of course, site rules apply. If you are unsure of the challenge rules please read the 'stickies' at the top of the board. Please note that all entries are eligible to receive critique in the voting thread.

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  2. #2
    There is no life I know
    To compare with pure imagination.
    Living there you’ll be free
    If you truly wish to be.~ Willy Wonka

  3. #3

  4. #4

    Pick Up Day

    The phone hidden behind a lamp
    never utters a peep.
    Dust motes set up house
    on the handset
    unafraid tips dipped in chocolate
    would ever invade their landscape.
    Such savvy little fellows.

    Empty Whitman's boxes
    litter the floor,
    colonized by distant dusty cousins,
    she had to forgo Godiva
    when her office chair screamed,
    then collapsed, forcing boss man
    to give her the axe.
    Come sunup,
    roaches pause their rave
    to nap in paper candy cups.
    No need to scurry and hide
    in the dark of the double-wide,
    all know she won't be stirring.

    TV's been blaring
    near two weeks
    hour after hour
    of the best bargains;
    hurry! only ten remain!
    Her scent has overpowered
    the usual eau du filth
    snaking its way
    through the
    left by a curve

    thrown last spring.
    Putrid perfume caresses
    each jagged shard.

    Nosy neighbors' noses
    catch a whiff on a breeze,
    time to call the cops, if you please,
    for that woman has gone too far.
    Pounds on the door get no reply,
    peers through a window
    reveal why:
    her four hundred plus
    bloated and black
    as feasting flies revel in attack
    and the QVC hostess
    hawks fancy spice racks.

    The phone hidden behind a lamp
    never utters a peep
    as the coroner wades
    through garbage in heaps.
    Age of maggots will define
    the timeline of her decline,
    and the tox screen will surely show
    arsenic as her source of woe -
    foul play or foreplay -
    they'll never know.

    Mrs. Proboscis from next door
    watches from her window
    pleased to her core;
    she's finally rid of that trash.
    I've done my job
    as head of Park Watch,
    she thinks as she cracks
    a bottle of aged scotch,
    then returns her hand
    to the pocket of her smock
    to lovingly cup the vial
    that gave her cause to dial
    the sheriff
    on this fine summer morn.

  5. #5

    Something from Nothing/Conspiracy

    His pipe is wrapped in checkered cloth
    ||||||||||and tied as a package around his neck.

    Let him track the ducklings’ footsteps
    ||||||||||and count all the flies they’ve eaten,
    Let him take his dirty handkerchief
    ||||||||||and use it as a map to find the way to Hell,
    Let him draw lines in the dust from maggot to maggot
    ||||||||||and fashion charms from cigarette bones.

    Now, watch
    ||||||||||as he undos the pipe package.
    Now, watch
    ||||||||||as he breathes out circles of half-reality—
    Hexes within hexes,

    Maggots eating maggots,

    —He dragged us all through the mud,
    ||||||||||only to blow soap bubbles.

    "So long is the way to the unknown, long is the way we have come. . ." ~ Turisas, Five Hundred and One

    "[An artist is] an idiot babbling through town. . .crying, 'Dreams, dreams for sale! Two for a kopek, two for a song; if you won't buy them, just take them for free!'" ~ Michael O' Brien,
    Sophia House

    Christ is risen from the dead,
    trampling on Death by death,
    And on those in the tombs,
    lavishing light.

  6. #6
    “You can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time”

    John Lydgate

  7. #7
    WF Veteran midnightpoet's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    ten miles east of resume speed
    Blog Entries
    "I pray that I not miswrite thee"


    "There are four and twenty ways
    to practice tribal lays
    and every single one of them is right."


    "There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

    Shakespeare's Hamlet

  8. #8

    Phantom Pain

    Spinning make believe chores into epic endeavors
    makes them last for many mundane hours
    takes my mind off unused rooms
    and lips un-kissed
    and a bed where passion has passed away
    if I shake the sheets, memories like dust motes
    swirl and dance in a vicious vortex
    pulling me into a black hole
    so I pretend everything is the same
    religiously scrub, sweep and polish
    while dark matter collects
    like phantom dust bunnies, in the closets of my mind
    I wash your chipped coffee cup every day
    even though you have not used it for months

    It has been a good day
    no mail was delivered to the deceased
    and no one called
    asking to speak to a dead man...
    Check out the exciting Poetry Hill !!

    If you are a writer, reach a reader
    If you are a fighter, teach a leader
    If you are a lover, touch a leper
    If this has helped you, thank you, reader

    If you can read this, teach a thinker

    Author: Lynn Loschky

    Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
    love leaves a memory no one can steal....
    Author unknown.

  9. #9
    I Left Self-Deceit . . . wearing stilettos

    I found you in ’62  
    no that’s not right  you found me
    no catch in my breath

    I was city lights
    you were country air
    one dance I’d do  not wanting to

    but you were nice

    the dance dragged on
    comfortable  too comfortable
    flat shoes bore me

    today I’ll slip you off
    today’s a day too late 
    you slipped on a ring  I'll slip away barefoot

    but you were nice

    years went somewhere  thirty-five slipped by
    each yawned in calm air  calm air, stale air, no air

    but you were nice

    somewhere you lost me  you never noticed
    somewhere I lost you  I never looked

    somewhere I left you
    I can’t remember

    but you were nice


  10. #10

    Nursery Crime

    Hush a bye baby, on the tree top,
    abandoned by mother
    for another to rock.

    By a mother herself, the seeds were sown
    to look after baby
    as one of her own.

    But when the wind blows and baby grows strong
    and before the spring can sing her song
    and before poor sparrow
    can twig the pretence,

    hush a bye cuckoo has flown the nest.

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