Doug Vinson Poet Rhyme

When She Called the Game

Her mother had been suspicious,
He'd seemed a bit fictitious.

His anger soon did match his brawn,
His rage was quite devout,
Her hidden tears and bruises' spawn,
Gave up her life to doubt.

The morning came that she was gone,
She'd turned the ship about.
Three strikes upon three strikes upon
The fact that he was out.




December 9, 2016
For the contest 'Quote Prompt II' sponsored by Laura Loo

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Kai Michael Neumann December 18, 2016 at 10:50 AM Great. Congratulations, Kai Doug Vinson December 18, 2016 at 5:36 PM Kai, thank you. Probably a tall order for a male to put himself in the place of a female. I tried.

Afzal Nusker December 18, 2016 at 12:12 AM Congrats on your win with this wonderful way of expression. Doug Vinson December 18, 2016 at 9:48 AM Thanks, Afzal. : ) Cheers, Doug.

Richard Lamoureux December 17, 2016 at 5:28 PM Well expressed, congrats. Doug Vinson December 17, 2016 at 6:27 PM Thank you, Richard. It's often hard to quit on a relationship, and - all other things being equal - I'd say that's not a bad thing. Abuse, of course, is another matter, and there (hopefully) a tipping point comes when it's all over.

Anu Nayak December 17, 2016 at 1:37 PM Dear Doug, awesome:) Congrats on your win!! love, Anu:) Doug Vinson December 17, 2016 at 6:25 PM : ) Hi Anu. I'm glad you read it, and thank you.

Andrea Dietrich December 11, 2016 at 8:04 PM Cool write, Doug. That quote worked great for you! Doug Vinson December 17, 2016 at 6:22 PM Hey Andrea. : ) Thanks!

Roy Merritt December 10, 2016 at 8:11 PM A somewhat humorous take from my perspective on infidelity and perhaps domestic abuse which one might expect leads to the inevitable. Doug Vinson December 11, 2016 at 12:55 AM Hi Roy. I didn't mean to sound humorous, and without voice inflection or body language being perceived, the first 2 lines do seem to be ambiguous (at least), as far as humor. I was stubborn about trying to reverse the rhyme scheme of a sonnet.

Paloma P December 10, 2016 at 6:56 AM Serious subject matter with a flamboyant flair. Distinctively you. Good luck. Doug Vinson December 10, 2016 at 7:46 PM Me either. It's one of those deals where there is an ocean of pain out there, if we think about it. To varying degrees, our lives are separated from it. Or not. Paloma P December 10, 2016 at 8:26 AM I concur, but have naught an answer. Doug Vinson December 10, 2016 at 7:13 AM Our societal consciousness is fractured - where will the pieces go?

Darren White December 10, 2016 at 3:40 AM Three strikes upon, three stikes upon.... and out... Strong poem, Doug! I like the cadence in the poem, with the 4-3 stressed syllables in the last two stanzas Doug Vinson December 10, 2016 at 6:30 AM Thank you, Darren. I often gravitate toward the 4-3 feet thing, coming up against it when trying for pentameter, let us say.

Brendan Solomon December 10, 2016 at 12:38 AM Great poem Doug, I am new to the soup, and am with Budgie at the moment, he says Hi too. Doug Vinson December 10, 2016 at 6:22 AM Hahahahahaaa! Sweet! Brendan Solomon December 10, 2016 at 1:02 AM lol, That's the name of our band. The Budgie Smugglers. Doug Vinson December 10, 2016 at 12:58 AM Hi Brendan. : ) If you're in the Southern Hemisphere, then soon you'll be wearing a Budgie Smuggler.