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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
December 29, 2015
The Guide by Catsitta is a well-written, humorous poem featuring the Grim Reaper.
Featured by TheMaidenInBlack
Literature Text
For a minute there I thought I
was at the wrong house. Then you tried
to fetch your toast with a fork, while
it was plugged in. Now the tile
floor is scuffed up and you're all fried.
Makes my job easy. Oh don't try
to plead or beg. This is your time
to follow me, no need to lie
for a minute
or an hour. Whichever kind
of bargain you have isn't my
problem. My job is to file
your soul for future trial.
Though, I guess, I'll let you cry
for a minute.
was at the wrong house. Then you tried
to fetch your toast with a fork, while
it was plugged in. Now the tile
floor is scuffed up and you're all fried.
Makes my job easy. Oh don't try
to plead or beg. This is your time
to follow me, no need to lie
for a minute
or an hour. Whichever kind
of bargain you have isn't my
problem. My job is to file
your soul for future trial.
Though, I guess, I'll let you cry
for a minute.
Literature
For --
Bloom, bloom, bloom,
by the window, by the sun,
by the cooling shade of soft green cedar,
bloom, bloom, bloom.
When the chrysanthemums baldly raises
its heavy head to the dim-lit skies,
or cicadas shrill in train-speed rhythm
buzz and rest their wings on your shivering thighs
do not fear the world, the strangeness of Nature,
do not flip your pale small eyelids and waver.
Whenever burly oaks grow, wild-strong branches wide,
and benign barley bend and bow in a smile;
No - this too high; No - this too low,
Bloom, bloom, bloom.
Literature
continual wandering
i'm going 80 on i-80 until i see the sun behind me
leaving the glow of
skylines and streetlights far behind
moving west towards the iowa sky
there's a stretch of the west coast
my feet have yet to roam
and it's been years since
i've filled my lungs
with pacific air
there's a cloud over i-5
passing through portland
a peaceful grey sky awaits me
i'm miles from my bed
but i've never been more awake
the ocean whips waves
in my direction
the pacific spray
rejuvenates me
i feel as young as i did
the first time around
i'm looking at the moon
from a different angle
this may not be home
but in this moment
it feels pretty damn close
Literature
FFM11: Hide The Key
You are supposed to be alone. You are, but the footsteps come from upstairs. The wood groans. It creaks. You are afraid.
The footsteps are too heavy to be Meredith's. You glimpse his face. You know.
You run. You fumble with the wall tile, but there is nothing but empty space. The key should be there. Meredith keeps it here. Always.
You don't see the blow that kills you.
He always thought Gloria was pretty. It's a shame. The boss swore she wouldn't be here.
She runs. She fumbles with a tile on the wall but finds nothing. Must be a panic room, he thinks. Why else would she be so desperate to get inside?
But it doesn't matter. The money's
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Form: Rondeau
A poem I wrote this semester for Advanced Poetry.
A humorous take on the grim reaper on duty.
--EDIT--
A DD? WHAT? I wrote this poem as a bit of a joke. ^_^; My teacher thought my initial draft was too expected (since it was about the grim reaper guiding a child to the after life, asking them to trust him). He suggested that maybe the grim reaper was like everyone else with a day job. In a moment of sarcasm, I asked him if I should just go ahead and murder someone in the poem. His response was "Do it unexpectedly". So out of frustration, and some dark humor, I wrote this version, and took out my anger on some poor literary person with a toaster.
A poem I wrote this semester for Advanced Poetry.
A humorous take on the grim reaper on duty.
--EDIT--
A DD? WHAT? I wrote this poem as a bit of a joke. ^_^; My teacher thought my initial draft was too expected (since it was about the grim reaper guiding a child to the after life, asking them to trust him). He suggested that maybe the grim reaper was like everyone else with a day job. In a moment of sarcasm, I asked him if I should just go ahead and murder someone in the poem. His response was "Do it unexpectedly". So out of frustration, and some dark humor, I wrote this version, and took out my anger on some poor literary person with a toaster.
Comments38
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What's funny is how some quality work comes out of getting an artist cranked, yes? 
Nice job; it certainly isn't the type of grim reaper I'd expect.
Nice job; it certainly isn't the type of grim reaper I'd expect.