Best Lunged Poems
So, once upon a time, there was a cat
that had no real home, and all alone,
she'd wander here and there amid the yards
in a community with lovely lawns
and shady trees and bushes that gave her
some shelter from the sun and pouring rain.
She'd go from house to house and beg for food;
with kind gold eyes and fur of shiny black,
she made some friends, but then, she'd run away.
Except, one day, she found her perfect home
and stayed and stayed till they adopted her.
So, in and out she'd go in her two worlds,
content for shelter and fine tasty meals;
still loving her adventures when outdoors.
But, oh one day, her 'daddy' caught a scene
that put such fear into his loving heart!
For there she was across the street, oh no,
in frozen stance and nearly nose to nose
with a coyote, large and tawny-gray!
For many seconds, neither moved, but then
she lunged into his face- was so surprised
and shocked...the huge coyote ran away!
As Licorice, (her name), came racing home
she flew into the open door and hopped
upon her 'mama's' lap and looked up with
her large gold eyes that twinkled with delight,
as if to say- don't worry about me-
my homeless days made me a warrior.
October 10, 2018
~1st Place~
Contest: Black Cat
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
Judged: 04/04/2022
~1st Place~
Contest: Fiction October 2018 Writing Challenge
Sponsor: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
Judged: 10/25/2018
Parted curtains
puff of smoke.
Parlor trick
or cruel joke?
First a bat,
then human form—
eyes aglow,
fangs enorm.
And in the mirror,
no image there;
it stilled my heart
and stifled prayer.
But Drac was old
and suffered so;
his timing off,
reactions slow.
As he lunged
I stepped aside;
mallet ready,
his chest I eyed.
He lay there stunned,
at last my break;
I then asked how
he’d like his stake.
2nd Place, Poems from the Vampire, Just That Archaic Poet
The winged god Zephyrus, handsome and graceful
gently flapped his wings, gliding across the meadows.
His eyes fell on naked youths splashing at play
in the sparkling water of a deep wide pool, sheltered
by willow trees, where fragrant flowers bloomed.
He slowed his flight and looked with lust and admiration.
On the green grass he espied a tender youth;
athletic and beautiful was this young Spartan prince,
scantily dressed, playing his flute with nimble touch.
Zephyrus’ heart fluttered and leapt; he could not help
falling deeply in love with beautiful Hyacinth.
Little did he know that he was already being
courted by Apollo! Out of sight he lay in wait
then made his move and sought him out at sunset.
He approached him and with golden words he tried
to tempt his heart, but all in vain. Though impressed,
Hyacinth remained firm and faithful to Apollo.
That night, Zephyrus many restless hours spent
alone, ignoring Chloris’s sexual charms.
Entangled thoughts engulfed his frenzied mind,
jealousy clawed at his heart, tore deep within.
Dawn arrived, and bleary eyed he hastened forth
towards the hills, in search of calm respite.
Alas, it was not meant to be; envy reared its head
with poisoned fangs that sent him reeling mad.
Emotions changed from red to green, and in despair
he flew high up, aimlessly circling in the sky.
Then all at once, upon a verdant field below,
he caught sight of Hyacinth and Apollo
playfully engaged in discus throwing.
The green-eyed monster lunged and with swift intent
Zephyrus blew a gust of wind that swerved the discus
from its route and it hit Hyacinth on the head
resulting in instant death. Jealousy prevailed.
Furious yet heartbroken, Apollo held Hyacinth
tightly in his arms, blood dripping from his temple;
and with one last act of love he changed that blood
into a most beautiful flower called Hyacinth.
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Contest: Epic Only
Sponsor: Skat A
Placed 3rd
Strident howling I heard and feared it was my cat
Ran to the porch to find a ball of fluff at bat
A large hawk dive-bombing on a wee baby owl
To find it unprotected evoked a fierce scowl
I stood between the aggressive hawk and its prey
It lunged at me viciously ‘fore it flew away
The barn owl sat on my porch, puffing for a while
I christened the babe “Grace” and continued to smile
She seemed content to stare at me that morn in spring
It was at least ten minutes before Grace took wing
When summer arrived with exhausting, dreadful heat
I was swimming at night when I heard such a treat
Grace had never even left my backyard, you see
Her repayment for kindness was to croon to me
As I moved some years later, I shed a few tears
Knowing Grace’s nightly song I’d no longer hear
Loyalty is built on faith and trust over time
Though she’d once been small, I left her in her prime
*True event. I later learned that owls are very loyal creatures. Written July
29, 2014 and dedicated to Grace.
they said when they found her
she was frozen
my god-mother who was a police officer
told me
they had to peel the ice laden sheets from
my mothers face
i knocked on the the door
the night before
when it swung open behind the iron guard gate
i stared at champagne
such an odd name
for a pit bull
having hated me for years
he lunged at the gate
why didn't i just leave?
why?
i ran to the back of the house and
broke the window
why was i panicking?
broke the window to draw him to the back
ran back to the front door
and tried...
mamma i tried....
to open the gate
champagne
such an odd name
hit the gate howling and growling
i wish i would have paid attention
to how he looked at me
i left defeated
and asked the neighbor if he had seen
my mom
"not today"
i found out the next day
that my mom was frozen stiff on that bed
all alone
while i knocked
outside
I stare down the alley, upon a tree.
The Demon Child does stare at me.
I look back and He isn't there,
Leaving me frightened and unaware.
I can feel His unlimited hate,
Piercing flame burns as Hell's gate.
That evil Thing sees through my soul.
Each eye is like an empty hole.
I run with my very soul's essence,
But nothing can relieve me of His presence.
I turn around, and there are more,
So i reach down, onto the floor.
I pick up a club of nails and wood,
And I facing them, there I stood.
Looking forward, I was ready to fight.
With what ever remained of my soul's might.
I swung so hard, my club did peel,
But useless against skin hard as steel.
I gather my strength and lunged ten feet,
Over a fence and onto the street.
I look with happiness, then almost cried,
The oncoming cars have no one inside.
There is nothing, no one, but Them and me.
Why is this how it has to be?
I am exhausted, but continue to sprint,
The light of hope is only a glint.
I get an idea, and find some rope.
I know this is my only hope.
I climb all the way to the roof of my house,
And I hide there like a panic-stricken mouse.
With none in sight, I can finally rest.
What happened next, I couldn't have guessed.
As I lay in wait, Something taps my shoulder.
My stomach sinks just like a boulder.
He just stands there, pointing at me.
I am certain it's futile to flee.
Because they are all there, voices dark but true:
"Why do you make it so easy for us to find you?"
He said he’d kill me, if I screamed.
All I wanted, was for him to leave.
Just two hours earlier, he broke down our door.
My life had been perfect, just before.
I had always been popular, had lots of friends.
And that for sure, was about to end.
He left my eyes open, but tied up my hands.
I could already tell, I did not like this man.
I sat on the couch, trying to stay calm.
As I sat there in silence, he brought in my mom.
He put her right in front of me, and pulled up a chair.
Shoved her into it, and pulled back on her hair.
I sat there shaking, trying not to scream.
He then slit her throat, right in front of me.
I sat there for hours, crying inside.
And just stared at the chair, where my mother just died.
I was not only mourning, I was building up hate.
Hate for this man, who would soon meet his fate.
I was untying my hands, while sitting there.
I had to be subtle, so he would not be aware.
I waited for him, to turn his back.
So I would have, a chance to attack.
Then he started to look, through the fridge.
I lunged for his knife, which had a sharp edge.
As I got to his knife, the man did not linger.
He spun around quickly, and I cut off his finger.
He dropped to the floor, screaming in pain.
Then begged me to leave him, but I had much more to gain.
I made him get up, and move to the chair.
He sat down crying, and I pulled back on his hair.
He screamed as the knife, tore through his flesh.
That was all I needed, nothing more nothing less.
Long ago in Littleton, when just a little lad
My parents bought a coat for me of rusty-orange plaid.
Not made for higher fashion, nor one of tailored fit
Yet of all my favorite coats, I’d say this one was “it.”
While I wore it for a time through all that nature threw,
It had another purpose: it was The Coat for you know who!
More than my protection, my “call to arms” to say the least,
I would head out to the back, to confront the wagging beast.
With the single word of: "Up!” a playful ritual began
She lunged upon my sleeve and our raucous bouts began.
I would pull her left, then to the right with all my might
Though often growling loudly, her tail revealed delight.
So many memories of her, I just can’t recite them all,
But here are just a few, I think you’ll see she was a ball!
She could pull her winter sled, with red-cheeked kids aboard
Or endear you with a look, that all of us adored.
I would sleep out in her doghouse, and her bring bones from Mr. Burke.
We would chase her ‘round the basement, when winter storms would lurk.
She would nose a sea-green skillet in the window well for us,
To let us know she’s hungry, and to come and fill it up!
I’m glad I had the privilege, to tussle with Argen.
She gave a million smiles then, as now I smile again.
I’m glad God gave this Newfoundland, to be our pet of choice
She spoke in countless ways and would always heed our voice.
There is something to the notion, that a dog is man’s best friend.
I must concur and plainly state, for me… it was Argen.
While each of us hold memories of what we loved the most,
I go back to days of great forays, in a rusty orange coat.
A man fell in the tiger’s cage
And he was truly trapped.
A gathered crowd, with cell phones out,
Was waiting, still and rapt.
The zoo attendants made quite sure
That onlookers stayed back
While doing very little
To prevent the cat’s attack.
For ten long minutes, that poor man
Observed the tiger’s glare.
He seemed to pray, but had to know
He’d not escape from there.
With one quick spring, the tiger lunged
And all that’s left to say
Is how ironic it can be
When prayer turns to prey.
As Deep Darkness Its Rabid Cloak Around Me Spread
As deep darkness its rabid cloak around me spread
Dark shadows raced to their images thus display
They that were so bleach white, those old skeletal dead
Thought to play with me and have their damnable way
Yet, my father had in fighting taught me so well
My valiant heart had strength, vigor and valor too
Yes, I had been cast into the devils unholy hell
But this amateur lad, had some fine grand tricks new.
No fighting soul can win if faith is not in its brave head.
There in seething darkness, fear's breath began to blow
Short greenish puffs that transformed into savage beasts
With wicked claws and fierce red eyes that did so glow
And their own gold table lay human head for their feast
In the distant corner lay a long gold hilted sword
In a quick flash it was mine in my eager hand
Then newest beast spoke, come on I am growing bored
Lets kill this old weak flesh and go ravage across his land.
No fighting soul can win if faith is not in its brave head.
With that I quickly lunged forward and off came its head
And its huge body collapsed into a hairy mess
Next the far lesser beasts for dear mercy each then plead
And even the smaller ones their wicked sins confess
Only beast left, a three headed snake with poison tails
And I could easily hear its deep cast dark curses said
All began with evil prayers beseeching dark lord of hell
And next came the hateful cries of the murderous dead.
No fighting soul can win if faith is not in its brave head.
.........
Robert J. Lindley, Rhyme, dark
Pary One, 9-12-2023
The moon reflected on the sea,
A night more beautiful than day.
I wheezed and struggled up the steps
And looked out over Whitby Bay.
I saw the harbour far below,
And heard the splashing of the waves,
I turned around to see the church,
The ruined abbey and the graves.
I thought of Dracula, the Count,
Imagined him and Lucy there,
And then I saw a hulking shape -
But, oh, the menace in that glare.
He showed his fangs and hissed at me;
My feet were rooted to the spot.
I cried for help and waved my arms
At people on a distant yacht.
He lunged and bit into my neck;
I tried to fight but felt so weak.
And that is how I came to die -
And you’re the prey I need to seek…
for Darren's Bram Stoker contest
There once was a king cobra called Lance,
Who heard music and went in a trance.
People thought he was asleep,
As his thoughts were so deep.
Then he reared up and lunged for their pants.
Jack Horne for Dr Ram's Music and Meditation
Face fractured with fear
As the Taxi drew near
The building was in the next street
" I'll drop you off here"
Said Steve full of cheer
(Annoyingly rather upbeat.)
As you pushed on the door
It's sticky hinge hissed
And you drew in your breath
At the scent of 'dentist'
"Youre a little late" the lady said
Do you live somewhere rural ?
You swigged on your hip flask
Looked her right in the eye, saying
"Just get me an epidural."
"Now now Mrs Phillips
You'll be just fine "
Said the lady so white and starched
And into the chamber of old magazines,
You were unceremoniously marched.
With Your heart like a piston
And blood pressure soaring
(Even " Horse and Hound" seemed
Tired and boring )
Lulled by a clock counting out every second,
Till you started with fright
As a dental nurse beckoned ...
"Please don't worry, don't be so tense "
Said Helga ( on work experience )
And then with sinister gravity
Said "We'll take care of that cavity "
"Hello" boomed a voice from the back of the room,
I'm here to do your extraction. I've done them before so no need to shake,
Look at me if you need a distraction "
"This won't take a second, it's all pretty simple
Just a couple of jabs and we're there "
So first with your right fist and then with your left,
He was out cold, on the floor, by your chair.
You ripped off your bib, took a swig of the pink
And suddenly feeling much better,
You lunged for the door and ran down the stairs
As fast as a sprightly red setter.
You ran to a sweet shop and asked for some toffee
"Give me the chewiest stuff that you've got"
"Sure said the assistant , this one's from Yorkshire
And here, you can have the lot "
You took of the wrappers and stuffed it all in
Then chewed like a donkey on acid
And in a few seconds, the tooth that was hurting
Left a hole as big as Lake Placid.
So what is the moral
I hear you all ask
Of this tale both of triumph and sorrow ?
Well forget your insurance, leave your cheque book at home,
Just unwrap and chew on a toffo
Evening Panorama
When the moon is intransigent to a gloomy cloud
Stars filching to stare the horizon
Sparkling luster luring across the sea
Lunged me to stroll along the seashore
Hear the wave’s commotion
Offshore to see slowly vanishing lamp light from a fisherman’s boat
Some nocturnal species tending to be gregarious
Envy of a fishwife for darkness captured her fisherman’s heart
Beside me is an old lighthouse
Pirouetting the pulchritude of the sea
Luminous as a pathfinder for mariners
Showing panorama for such piscatorial area
World-weary, I indulged into stargazing
Starry-eyed that evening to the starlight
The visage of a departed loved ones
I yielded to cease being awake to the whooshing sea waves
Honorable mention to Laura Mckenzie's Beyond Nightfall Contest: 3/20/2010
The TV showed a tyrant tumbling towards our house.
I was weary and wanted to leave before it hit, but
My mom was too weak and too old to leave her bed.
She couldn’t leave so I sat, sat and prayed.
I boarded up a window standing on a chair—
Waiting. It was hurrying our way in the shape of a hurricane.
My mom said, “Remember Hurricane
Betsy back in ’65, we survived that in this house!”
She was trying to comfort me in my chair.
I was trying to stay calm for my mom, but
I was worried, so worried and again I prayed,
Watching, waiting and wondering over her bed.
As I walked to the window; I looked at my bed
Of roses freshly planted and hoped the hurricane
Would spare their lives, ours too! Then, me and the roses prayed.
Suddenly and without warning the power left our house
And a window cracked and crashed close to my mom’s head, but
She was ok. She was calmly asleep. Then, I sat in my chair
With a flashlight and waited. My old chair
Was calm and sturdy like my mom’s bed.
Throughout the night I sat confident that we would hold, but
Finally the overwhelming weight of the heavy hurricane
Broke the levees and lunged an ocean into our house.
I cried “Mom we have to go!” She woke and then she prayed.
And as she prayed
The water rose and knocked over my chair.
I picked her up and carried her to the roof of our house,
And we waited and waited—she missed her bed.
At last a boat came, on the side read “HURRICANE
RELIEF”. I told my mom it was time to go, but
She didn’t want to go, she was sad. But,
I convinced her that we couldn’t stay. We got in the boat—everyone prayed.
Then we waited and waited in a big silver dome with other hurricane
Survivors, all were thirsty, none were cold. “Mom…Wake up!” She lay dead in a chair.
So, I got some rubbish and filth and made her a bed.
I covered her up—I missed our house.
When I returned I found my chair though it was not the same, but,
I sat anyway and then I prayed. I put my mom’s ashes in a brand new rose bed
And begged another hurricane doesn’t take away—my mom and our house.