Where is grandpa’s red devil box?
Each grandchild asked this as we entered the home.
It was a box grandpa had teased us with since we were young.
We all wanted it. There was only one of course.
He used to chase me around with it, Barry told us.
I wet my pants once when he told me what it could do, I said.
Story after story came out.
We laughed until we were crying.
It was the one thing we all had in common with grandpa.
Some of the stories were immensely silly.
Some made us howl.
We never ran out of them.
Grandpa’s devil box stories got us through the day.
And through his funeral without tearing our hair out.
Categories:
red devil, grandfather,
Form: Narrative
The Red Devil stares at me
As I stare back into Death's flaming eyes
One of us must die here today
Lord I hope it's not me
As I stare back into Death's flaming eyes
I know it's him or me
Lord I hope it's not me
As I charge toward him
I know it's him or me
One of us must die here today
As I charge toward him
The Red Devil stares at me
Categories:
red devil, conflict, death, fire, imagery,
Form: Pantoum
red devil of life
sow the tightness of large deaths
chaos' asking
*A take off on D.G's ...green Angel of death.*
Categories:
red devil, funny
Form: Haiku