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Tag Archives: storytelling

I cheated in a couple of places with spelling, but these were still fun to write.

 

Enclosure

ENCLOSURE

Nothing gets out, nothing gets iN

Confined within space specifiC

Locked up body and souL

Open up!  The answer’s nO

Stripped of freedom’s blisS

Unable to break thrU

Release me!  The answer’s neveR

ENCLOSURE

 

Alphabetic Explanation of the Undead

A Beetle Clawing Dirt Entered Forgotten Graves. He, Incidentally, Just Krept Last Month Near Other Places Quite Radioactively Saturated. This Unusual Visitor Would X-plain Your Zombies.

Ode to the Moon

Come join us, won’t you?

Take part

With festive heart

With dancing feet

To a restless beat

Sing

An ode to the Moon

A plump, pudgy, corpulent Moon

The kind that makes lovers swoon

Just right for a honeymoon

Makes ocean tides swell

Drives wolves to yell

The kind that silhouettes a witch

Or makes a lycanthrope twitch

Oh fullest Moon

So golden clad

So voluminous

So luminous

Yet daytime hath forbad

So magisterial

So ethereal

To it magic cannot add

How is it that you drive

A sane man mad?

Danse Macabre

Shades are shaping

And shapes are shifting

Through faint glowing mist

Ghosts are drifting

Their floating forms

Fills the air

Moaning laments

Of woe and despair

This Danse Macabre

That wends it way

To the Potter’s Field

Where Death holds sway

Forked tongue wizards

Spewing spells

They draw their venom

From necromantic wells

Lurid faced witches

Cavorting nude

Their laughter foul

And their dances lewd

Decaying features

Mottled skins

Rotted flesh

And skeletal grins

Ghastly ghouls

And gory beasts

Great horned monsters

Who’ve come to feast

The graveyard pageant

The writhing throng

Suddenly ceases

At the rumbling gong

The dead have risen

At their master’s calling

But to their knees

They now are falling

Amongst the dankest dark

A tolling fills the gloom

Every creature halts to hark

The approaching Lord of Doom

Clanging clong of iron bell

Precedes his stately tread

Everything that hears the knell

Bows to the King of the Dead

The Haunters of Autumn

 Oh how they cower in dark little places

Fear etches haunted looks on their faces

They scamper and scurry to avoid the light

Only come out to play under cover of night

Their eyes glow like candles flickering in wind

And the rustling of leaves is the sound of their skin

You cannot catch them for they’ve already fled

They cannot be killed for they’re already dead

You’ll hear them whisper from shadowy wood

As the Haunters of Autumn send chills through the blood

 

The airs of October carry their voices

Half-heard gigglings and other strange noises

A whisper behind you that drifts through the air

Tells you their presence is about you somewhere

What are these creatures that haunt the gloom

Mocking and stalking with portents of doom?

The woods are alive with their tittering taunts

You walk alone on one of your nightly jaunts

Hearing your shrieks over the darkening plane

As the Haunters of Autumn leave you cold and insane

In the spirit of immersing oneself within stories, I would like to direct attention to a book, an RPG, and a Podcast that I have found quite interesting as they force you to ponder the nature of creating or discovering greater depths of the stories we humans weave:

The Art of Immersion

Microscope

Ken and Robin Talk About Stuff

Dave