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February Challenge: “Good Bones” (1 Viewer)

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Chesters Daughter

WF Veterans
This is a “regular” month, therefore, entrants must post their own entries this month.

Discussion regarding any entry, or any challenge related issues, may take place in either Bistro during any phase of the challenge. Kindly be mindful that secure entries are only discussed in the Secure Bistro to preserve the first rights of entrants.

Please remember that in submitting an entry you are obligated to cast at least one vote in the poll once it is opened. Failure to do so will result in your entry being disqualified.

The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by Gumby is: Good 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.

Entrants must post their own entries in this thread, or if you desire to protect first rights, please post your entry in the [URL="https://www.writingforums.com/threads/191751-February-Challenge-%93Good-Bones%94"]secure thread[/URL], 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 for entries on the public board, and the Secure Bards’ Bistro for entries on the secure board.

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This challenge will close on the 15th of February at 7pm EST.
 
GOOD BONES POST MORTEM


“Ready.” I flick my laser. Ruddy light
trims back her nipples, silver dollar wide,
slowly. I slice away her skin, remove
each breast & watch the scale tip . . . normal. I
pry back her ribs & wonder why her heart
now seems so small. I pluck it up & out,
still beating, lump it on my tray & pout.
“Not that,” I say & slice away her parts—
away with liver, kidney, spleen. I sigh,
as I inspect her uterus & groove
& find a streak of damage deep inside,
the D-and-C that almost killed her. “Right.
It isn’t that. Whatever caused her pain
is somewhere else.” I saw across my brain.
 

rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
Bone Dust

empty of flesh
no sinew
muscle or cartilage
just tiny broken
little itty-bitty brittle bits
of bleached out bones

it once was a good man
with flesh muscles
strong bones
with wife family and one hell
of a good home

now it just bits and pieces
of dusty old bones
 

ritudimrinautiyal

Senior Member
Bones Carrying Thirst

Clotheless they were killed,
by bullets , not as target practice,
but as worthless lives.
Nothing more than garbage,
lying one over the other,
inside self dug graves,
with the thirst for worth.
Worth they were born with,
when their parents desired them,
and brought them in this world.
To be appreciated, cared, loved.
They lost this feeling, moments before their death.
And thirst for it, they carried inside their bones.
The moisture sometimes come for them,
igniting the phosphorus inside those bones,
for the flip flop torches of thirst they carry.

Ritu Dimri Nautiyal
 

Chesters Daughter

WF Veterans
Birthing Good Bones

I can never coax them forth,
aw, hell no.
They develop in secrecy,
softly whispering to each other
while I remain oblivious.
My offspring assemble
in my right cerebral cortex,
(some armed and dangerous)
drooling with anticipation
and desperately eager
to be translated
into binary code.
Once the belly of my brain
is overburdened,
contractions begin.

This Mom-to-be,
unsuspecting I'm expecting,
feels the tantalizing tickle
that heralds their arrival.
I rush to the marble hospital
grabbing the birth canal
graciously provided by Cross
as undulations bring the kids
to fingers stiff from disuse
and they are born via gold nub.
Little bony newborns
dressed in lilac or blue
lovingly placed
side by side
on a crisp white sheet.

They remain in the nursery
gathering strength to greet the world.
Their cribs are switched,
and names and diapers are changed
as I add pad to spindly frames
and slow but sure
ounces are gained.

Once they gurgle and coo,
I have my cue to give them their due.
Finally dressed in their Sunday best,
I escort them to the keyboard
for their debut.

Swirling lilac and blue
are left behind
for the ebony attire required
for such gala events.
With a click,
a birth announcement
appears in bold
and my infants assume
their proper places.
With a deep exhalation
and another click,
the curtain goes up
and you all get your first peek
at my brand new babies.

Hoping everyone abides
by the rule
that even ugly infants
are adorable,
I pack up the hospital
and store it in a drawer
until another unknown pregnancy
results in an urgent delivery
and this jubilant Mother
must make room for more.
 

Foxee

Patron
Patron
Good Bones

She's got good bones
weathered battle damage
humility a tattered flag
wrapping her shoulders
dusting her feet

Heart shot away
a yellow canary cries
from her rib cage

Scarred by flame
expectations seared
bright embers remain
she meets your eyes
steadily

She can touch without crushing
Speak without screaming
Give without gaining

She can take the weight
She's got good bones
 

LadySilence

Senior Member
I Succeed




“I have good bones, don't worry about me. I can do it."
You smile at me, I see you walking slowly, with a smile on your face.
"Do you want us to stop?" I ask with humility.
You don't answer me, you smile, you keep walking.
How many tired wrinkles on your face, grandfather. They are all medals, of a lived life.


"Do you want us to stop? You look tired, "you ask, laughing.
"I can do it. I have good bones, "I reply, and laugh.
You keep walking, I see your tired step, your good bones getting more and more tired.


«Let's stop» I order, but you don't listen, you know it better than me, stopping is the same as dying.
War doesn't care who you are, it feeds on souls, without distinction.


We walk hidden by the night, I see your aching face, hide your tired bones.
How many sacrifices did those bones make?
How many sunsets have you seen?
How many hot meals he brought home, amid the whistling's of bombs.


"Your bones are good, let them see the dawn of a new day" I whisper in your ear, you look at me tired.


I won't let you answer, I take you in my arms, as you did when I was little, and my bones were too young. As the dawn smiles on a new day.
"Grandpa, your good bones have brought us to safety," I whisper as you sleep on the bed in the infirmary.
 

Matchu

Senior Member
Brain Waves

My dear bones
brittle and weak
From down below
you heard me speak
a yawning twaddle
the baffled groan
for decades
you carried me home
for duty
you held a piece
I abused
and I grew obese
Before we sizzle
make amend
I love you
Bones
your means
my end
 

jenthepen

Staff member
Mentor
Good Old Bones

Neanderthal man is reduced to bone,
a find for the archaeologist.
Exhibit for the visitor’s gaze,
just another tick on the study list.

He grins at us from his cold glass cage
as he lies-in-state for eternity.
Insensible to the irony
of his pride-of-place in modernity.

Outpaced in the race to survive alive
but saved in his grave among ancient stones.
Out-gunned on the intellectual front,
he can boast of superior bones.
 

vranger

Staff member
Supervisor
Foundation

Sad old empty house
an abandoned home
its paint flaked and worn.
Windows broken, door ajar
bears no notice
but neighbor's scorn.

Standing all but forgotten
years of neglect
have brought it down.
Overgrown grounds with
vines and weeds just an
eyesore for the town.

A man stands facing
hands on hips
concentration on his face.
Imagination rolls
back those years
the damage to erase.

Examines foundation
pokes at bands
rafters and beams.
It could be worse
the man concludes
not as bad as it seems.

Carefully he tramps
back down seeks out
no more unknowns.
The place needs love
but it will work
the structure has good bones.
 
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Kehlida

Senior Member
Now All I Know Is Alone

My heart is hidden in those walls alongside memories of the time we spent
hungering for our next hit
I cannot remember when our room went dim or the faucet no longer dripped
or how, below overdue bills piled on your desk I found a pink slip
Our love would never be one on which stories are built
But nothing will numb my sadness
It just grows in place of your absence

Would he be bound to secrecy or keep telling lies?
Life is absolute and to be absolved is to live in light
I know my love’s way remains impure, but I can only pray for mine
It would never happen again; he said I should silence my cries
His anger transgressed against all boundaries we’d set
and my body could not withstand

Craving something else to resolve the pain
I hoped his venom would dissolve
but I could tell by the look on his face
Blot carefully, rinse and repeat
watching crimson swirls circle a rusty drain
Bruises discolored by ink stains imbedded in my flesh
He carved a new rose to cover up my old burns and called it art
to protect himself

Our roles ordained to be imperfect from birth to burial
Finding it impossible to find sense in this
helplessness I feel ever since your soul came and went
Your voice lives inside my head and my world is never quiet but lonely evermore
A drunk and recovering failure just laying low
How could we be rid of a habit we convinced ourselves we needed
as opposed to needing to live?

Now I search for a silver lining to replace my aimless wondering
where did we go wrong and should the blame be placed on me?
Through sinfulness and strife; bloodshed and every long night
I find peace believing sobriety would reveal good bones of the man you could’ve been
 
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