And without further ado, here’s our daily (optional) prompt. For this challenge, start by reading Marlanda Dekine’s poem “My Grandma Told Stories or Cautionary Tales.” One common feature of childhood is the monsters. The ones under the bed or in the closet; the odd local monsters that other kids swear roam the creek at night, or that parents say wait to steal away naughty children that don’t go to bed on time.
Now, cast your mind back to your own childhood and write a poem about something that scared you – or was used to scare you – and which still haunts you (if only a little bit) today.
Happy (shivery spooky) writing!
The ghost in grandma’s attic always left me shook I heard the creaks and clatters of all the steps he took.
I knew he wafted through the walls of every floor and space, but the attic in my closet was his very favorite place.
Nighttime he’d begin by knocking, Scraping, scratching,screeching; I never knew just where he was or if he’d come a reaching.
For many years I felt the fear creeping up into my bones;for if I closed my eyes I knew my soul the ghost would own.
I wonder if the ghost still lives in grandma’s former dwelling; for stories of his haunting deeds still told are quite compelling.
Today the challenge was to write a poem in the style of Kay Ryan, whose poems tend to be short and snappy – with a lot of rhyme and soundplay. They also have a deceptive simplicity about them, like proverbs or aphorisms.
I’m not sure if I accomplished it, but here is my poem for today.
Ghosts in Late Summer
Words hung softly, but still too loud for a dead thing. All that remained of summer seemed spent, so I ran straight away into the chill of autumn nipping. Never mind the plotted hours of living where we found stolen strength to see past what was in front of our eyes. When I heard your last whisper through the wall, I wasn’t ready to face winter alone. I felt lost, for we loved deeply and without many words. Imagine then my surprise at the loud voice of your ghost.