So It Goes

Well, here goes...

Fingerpaints



Sweet little Alice, sits in her chair,
Combing her sister’s long yellow hair,
Though in her mind an idea lingers—
“I’ll paint Mum a picture just using my fingers!”
Alice fetched the paints out from under her bed—
To her horror she saw she was all out of red.
“I must have red paint,” she screamed to her Father,
“You’ve let me run out, as though you don’t bother!”
The dad turned and chuckled with vapid care—
Apprehension hung like fog on the air.
“I’m busy now Alice, if you don’t mind,
But look ‘round the house, and see what you find!”
“But I want red now!” Alice seethed in a fury,
“Why can’t you see that I’m in a hurry?
Never mind,” she smirked as she skulked away,
“I’ll find some red paint if it takes me all day.”
A thump resounded through the floor—
Ten minutes passed, and then ten more.
“Look what I’ve made!” cried Alice with glee,
“From the red paint found in sister Julie!”
Blood ran down Alice’s hands and face,
As Father rushed downstairs at a frantic pace.
The scissors were buried in the head through the eyes,
Resulting in Julie’s unpleasant demise.
Crimson lacerations laced ‘round her throat—
Oozing witnesses of where she’d been smote.
Just then Mother strolled in through the door—
Stopped and blanched at what lay on the floor.
Alice sat leering, sucking her thumb,
“Oh Daddy dear, what have you done?”

Bestial


People have asked why I eat of my heart,
When I find it unpleasant, bitter and tart,
“What is it that drives you?” they ask with a smile,
“To devour a thing that tastes like old bile?”
Deceptive simplicity haunts the dry query,
And the truth I am tempted to quietly bury.
It is because my heart is filled with desire
That gnaws at my soul, and burns like a fire
I wish I’d of left my heart far behind
And thrown it away with the rest of its kind
That it presently possesses me, I won’t deny
And if I threw it out now, I think I might die.
So I consume it, precious, and I must admit,
Despite all its malice, I rather like it.

Apologies for foisting these on you. In conclusion:

Poetically Correct

Once or twice upon a time,
I sat down and tried to rhyme,
But all the structure turned to poop,
So I left to find a therapy group.
A craggy old sage stood up with a creak,
His voice came out in a rickety squeak:
“It might sound odd but you’ll often find,
That madness and brilliance run intertwined!”
That’s what I heard, though I don’t really know—
I lost sight in my ear ‘bout a week ago.
“Parallelepiped,” I screamed dramatically,
Hoping my brilliance would be proved emphatically.
The old man winced and shook with a spasm,
Clearly overwhelmed by my enthusiasm.
It seems my vocabulary made them think I was crazy,
T’was apparent the divisory line wasn’t hazy.
I sheepishly grinned then walked down the hall,
Concluding their advice wouldn’t help me at all.
Alas, I found all my efforts were fruitless—
Poetically-wise, I’m still quite useless.

I get really distracted by the spacing between the lines. Totally off putting and I'm wondering why you format your poetry that way.

Apologies- I'd attempt to rationalize the formatting, but seeing as I have no excuse, I won't.

That's better. I can't stand the rhythm and rhyme buts that is only my personal opinion which counts for nought on this forum. However, I do like Bestial and your choice of words - I just wish I could get rid of the stick pounding on the ground as I read it!

RE fingerpaints. I was ahead on the source of the red paint but it was rewarding when it flowed. Intelligent and well restrained. put each new poem in a new thread. They get lost all in one.
nice job
JB

Sorry Delta40, in future I'll see what I can do about toning down the rhythm and such. Or I might not, depending on how I'm feeling. Thanks for reading; I'm glad you liked Bestial.

Jerrybaldy: I agree, Fingerpaints is almost painfully predictable, but thanks for reading and commenting. I do appreciate it.

I wouldn't apologize for your style versus someone's personal preference. Why someone would mesh that so harshly within a compliment is even farther from me. But anyways, The rhyme makes your poem light and easy to take in while the content is anything but. So I think it was befitting to tone down their intensity.

These are great stories, well worth paying more attention to word choices that would support the rhythm you establish and then abandon. Be careful though that your word choices are not arbitrary and support the story and the rhythm simultaneously.

Loved Fingerprints for its darkness, taking the spoiled brat to extremes.

Keep 'em coming.