Here We Go Again
Mother Comb's Limerick Challenge
I shouldn't be penning this rhyme.
I'm busy. I haven't the time.
But a challenge was made
And alas, I'm afraid
To ignore it would be such a crime.
***
Anyone that knows me, knows I love limericks. So, when Mother Combs threw a limerick challenge out there, all my plans for the day got shot to h*ll!
Check out the challenge here:
About the Creator
Dana Crandell
Dad, Stedpad, Grandpa, Husband, lover of Nature and dogs.
Poet, Writer, Editor, Photographer, Artist and Tech/Internet nerd. Content writer by trade. Vocal Creator by choice.
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Bring on Spooky Season!
I really have to start this one off with an explanation and I'll be posting a few links after the poem. First of all, it was written in response to S. A. Crawford's "Spooky Season Challenge." Second, it was unknowingly inspired in a weird way by Kelli Sheckler-Amsden's piece, entitled "Scarecrows and Mazes." (Here's where it started to get weird.) The meter of that title immediately brought to my mind a Julie Andrews song from "The Sound of Music." Can you guess which one? Never mind. It was "My Favorite Things." So, this poem is set to the tune of that song. It also has an Elvira reference in the second line, because I needed a good rhyming word and I was a fan. (I'm a guy, I was young once, and I love scary movies.) I'm afraid it just went downhill from there, but the final stanza (the bridge of the song, sort of) actually states my "reason for the season." Hold on; here we go and I hope you have fun:
By Dana Crandell8 months ago in Poets
At the Sheltering Doors
The doors, they always scrambled for the doors first. When they arrive and always by night it was a race to desperately bar the creatures entry to the house in the slow crawl of numb feet that the dream would impose upon him. He never seemed fast enough and the creatures uninhibited by the same constraints always made the doors first. The houses in his dream-scapes vary night to night - Some are mansions, others shacks and some are distorted contortions of his childhood home which burned down when he was ten. But the doors are always the same – frail, loose hinged and never could be fully shut. The creatures too vary – twisted and corrupted forms of animals and people familiar to him: family dogs preternaturally swollen to twice their size with rotting coats of mange and slicked damp with dark liquids of decay. The people too were bloated vestiges of ones vaguely familiar to him but whose names escape him. Their eyes gorged wide with dark blood which streaked their mottled faces in crusted trails like lost rivers which hung from their chins swinging in ropy columns beneath paling yellowed teeth. To let them break through would mean death. This he knew with grave certainty. At the door was desperation and panic as their stench emanated forth, sickly and pungent like vomit and mold and ending in a gruesome exhalation like cancer, the stench sticky and clinging invading his nostrils and lungs never to be expunged. Then in the sudden waking he never knew if he repelled them or not.
By Kevin Rolly5 days ago in Horror
Comments (8)
Lol! I can’t even start writing limericks- like you, I’ll never stop! Haha!
Lol. This is great.
So glad you decided on not committing a crime. Lol! Loved your limerick!
Meta jokes are some of my favourite! Great take on the challenge Dana! I know what you mean about not having the time, really I should be working right now lol
lol!!! Thank you, Dana!! This is great!
Love it. Fun take on the challenge.
hahaha love it! Off to check out the challenge now!
The things I miss! I’ll try to participate in this one- if you can squeeze it in I’ll try, too