When Three Word Wednesday http://www.threewordwednesday.com/ served up erratic, luminous and omen as the prompts, I decided to work them like a wordle. For some reason ‘omen’ came to the fore, and being the negative guy I am, I saw a bad omen. It then became the setting of the poem.
Because I had no idea what I was going to write about, the first part of the poem charged in a Halloween direction, making it the most sinister poem beginning I’ve ever written; then, in the third line of the third stanza, it changed and made me a participant. The rest just happened as quickly as I could type. It can probably benefit from some additional editing, a few trochee feet are lurking about, and I couldn’t decide whether or not to replace the ellipsis in the fourth stanza with a question mark, but I liked what I had and wanted to get it down. As a matter of fact, I like it so much, I thought it was worthy of Thursday’s Poet’s Rally http://thursdaypoetsrallypoetry.blogspot.com/ for week 45, so I submitted it there too.
by Mike Patrick
The streetlight’s glow, within the fog,
is but a luminous, foul globe.
Its tepid shimmer not enough
to guide a rat’s erratic probe.
Cobwebs of scudding clouds concealed
the omen of a witching moon.
The slamming of a church’s door
was echoed off a standing tomb.
From near the twisted briars and weeds,
below the point of Potter’s field,
I skulked along a rusted fence;
an evil deed must be fulfilled.
I knew the house, wherein she lived,
the place where she now keeps my heart.
When she ignored my offered love . . .
then my revenge I must impart.
The whimpering of a frightened dog;
the only sound I heard that night.
As I pried open her back door,
black clothing kept me out of sight.
I snuck into her living room
with ready knife I’d brought from home.
No woman leaves me in the cold;
she’ll have to pay, she must atone.
The lights came on, and she was there.
No fear was showing in her eyes.
“You took your own sweet time,” she said,
“but you still fell for all my lies.
“Three months ago, I sowed a seed;
Allowed your nasty lips on mine,
and now it’s time for me to feed.
My kind of love you’ll not decline.
“When you came in to take my life,
your worthless honor to make whole,
you crept into the perfect trap.
Now I will take your very soul.
“All men make the same mistake.
Do you know why they fail?
Their error is in their belief,
that Satan is a male.”