July Challenge: "Washing Bones"

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  1. #1

    July Challenge: "Washing Bones"

    AS PREVIOUSLY ANNOUNCED, IF YOU ENTER THE CHALLENGE, YOU MUST CAST AT LEAST ONE VOTE IN THE POLL. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN YOUR ENTRY BEING DISQUALIFIED.

    The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by Gumby is: Washing Bones

    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.

    The inclusion of explanatory text or links of any kind within an entrant's challenge entry is prohibited and will be immediately removed upon discovery. As always, only one entry per member is permitted.

    As previously announced, anonymous entries have been abolished, therefore, entrants must post their own entries in this thread, or if you desire to protect first rights, please post your entry in the secure thread, and then post a link to it here in the public thread. Failure to do so runs the risk of your entry being disqualified, so if you require assistance with the task, please PM me, and I will gladly help you.

    If your entry contains strong language or mature content, please include a disclaimer in your title.

    Kindly make sure your entry is properly formatted and error free before you submit. You have a TEN MINUTE GRACE PERIOD to edit your piece, but anything edited after that will likely see your entry excluded from the challenge.

    Do not post comments in this thread. Any discussion related to the challenge can take place in the Bards' Bistro.

    Everyone may now use the "Like" function whenever they so choose.



    This challenge will close on the 15th of July at 7pm EST.





  2. #2

    The Woodworkers’ Daughter

    Her scale screamed
    less than six stone,
    most of which
    was exclusively bone,
    yet when she showered
    she scoured her skeleton
    in an unquenchable quest
    to wash away weight
    only she could see.

    But that came later.

    In the beginning,
    blessed with a normal BMI,
    she’d been content hiding
    behind her snare and cymbals,
    but a one of a kind voice
    forced her front and center

    where endless eyes focused
    on her imperfections

    most sadly born
    of her own misconception.

    Please the mother.
    Please the brother.
    Please the fans.
    Forget herself.
    Her sacred voice had no say.
    Powerless to plan her own steps,
    she took control another way.

    Thin was in
    and audiences did not pay
    to see a sloppy slob sashay.
    So she starved and purged,
    popping laxatives
    with metabolic uppers

    in record numbers
    to immediately usher out
    what tidbits she took in.

    She dropped pounds
    but her lying eyes denied the loss
    so her weight plummeted
    down
    down
    down
    as desperate to lose more
    she clawed at death’s door
    finally feeling
    in command
    of her situation
    until the little she had left
    failed her
    in pursuit of preservation.

    A solitary savior

    was found in a network
    of collapsed vessels
    and through a tube
    her dying landscape was watered
    as its larger cousin
    force fed the crops.

    Her tissues greedily gulped
    what they needed to succeed

    and ounces married bone
    but alas

    it was too late.

    Syrup of ipecac
    had laid to waste
    the love starved muscle
    nestled within her chest.
    With almost no warning,
    her beat deserted her.

    At the age of 32,
    her caloric war ended,
    her unique sound
    forever gagged and bound
    for greener pastures.


    Back at the beginning,
    before she was held hostage
    by a mistaken mind,
    the family
    she relinquished her rights
    to please
    was as absent as the husband
    whose betrayal
    had brought her to her knees.

    Bedeviled and doomed,
    there’s no doubt you believed
    you were all alone
    as you cleansed
    those fleshless bones

    sweet, tragic Karen

    everyone
    anyone
    someone

    should have shown you different.
    Last edited by Chesters Daughter; July 4th, 2018 at 07:15 PM. Reason: Formatting issues


  3. #3
    An Oral History

    Crowns filled with gold and ivory caps
    are rotted by greed and inflamed by pride
    Can soda pop sins and cavities be cleansed
    with twice daily prayers to the goddess fluoride?

    Incisor indulgences and floss forgiveness
    fail to mouth wash away the nicotine stains
    Pull the offenders from withering roots;
    erect porcelain statues to take their place
    I find that my lack of knowledge can sometimes be an asset in that I'm forced to try new things because I don't have any other options.

  4. #4
    In the Distance

    Pearls of sweat crown her forehead beneath a fringe
    of brunette hair
    Her steady breath measures the song within her
    of the first people who honored the land

    Eyes down fixed on busy hands tying knots and weaving
    patterns passed on from mother to daughter
    seeped within birthright

    high above the crow caws

    Her foot taps Earth’s sacred heartbeat
    rhythm earlier than memory

    Her thoughts journey across snowy plains
    where ancestral bones once traveled across winter
    blizzards and summer migration to rest in the mound

    Obligation and reverence shielded by generations of
    respect washed away by the cross and forsaken by
    the modern
    Her hands remember the ancient tradition and heroes
    of her blood

    ally of the wind the crow caws

  5. #5

    Face the waves

    Face the waves that touch our country;
    breathe the starlight, admixed with brine;
    swim amidst bright dreams of morning
    tossed and tumbled through the night;
    a strong desire for wind is upon us,
    driven fierce by unseen tempests,
    pushing the waters onto pale shores
    through wild and wavering shadows;
    these fair bone-cages are being washed,
    serene in the warm and ebbing tide;
    the fragile half-light is burning down
    into the depths illumined in the eye;
    such twilight and silhouetted smiles,
    such longings between the water-pages,
    longings not understood by youth:
    the endless minstrelsy of frothy waves,
    eyes bright beneath star-spray blossoms,
    and the dying of each wave in its turn.

  6. #6
    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

  7. #7
    The Riddle Song

    I gave him my cherry
    though I was stoned
    he gave me his chicken
    no bones about it
    then it was
    an endless story
    of someday
    until
    with unshed tears
    I switched to plan b
    for blood
    washes away sin
    Everything you want is just outside your comfort zone.
    — Robert G. Allen

  8. #8

    blind eyes

    .
    ​a whiff on the wind
    of reeling hormones

    stalking the flock
    seeking those prone

    stealing innocence
    no being condones

    leaving a child
    unhealing alone

    while a disgraced priest
    kneeling atones

    like a blood-faced predator
    cleaning bones

  9. #9

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