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Night Owl Poetry – Dorinda Duclos

~ "The silence of the night awakens my soul"

Night Owl Poetry – Dorinda Duclos

Tag Archives: #AprilWriting

Sucking Skeevers ~ #AprilWriting #poetry

28 Saturday Apr 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in April Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

#AprilWriting, #poetry, #writingprompt, dorindaduclos.com, Night Owl Poetry, poems, promises, prompts, skeeve, skeevers, writing


I really don’t know how to start this
Dear Michelle, what on Earth have you done?

You want me to write about skeevers who suck
I think you’ve absorbed too much sun

The only skeevers I really know about
Are those who are afraid to touch

Things that others have slobbered on
Like silverware, drink straws, and such

Is this what I’m supposed to write about?
It’s kind of gross, I don’t think that I should

But I promised I’d do all the writing prompts
And this is the best I could do, hope it’s good!

 

April Writing Prompt:  Sucking skeevers – Day 28/30

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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Run for the Border ~ #AprilWriting #poetry

27 Friday Apr 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in April Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

#AprilWriting, #poetry, #writingprompt, arrested, dorindaduclos.com, Night Owl Poetry, pandemonium, pilfering, poems, steal, thief, writing


An uproarious tale was once told
How she’d steal everything, made of gold
Though the goods were all fake
She would snatch and she’d take
Anything that could possibly be sold

Keeping everything, in such great disorder
They mistakenly arrested her daughter
For something she didn’t do
But took the blame, nothing new
And let Mom make a run for the border

 

April Writing Prompt:  Pilfering pandemonium – Day 27/30

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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Poor Agnes ~ #AprilWriting #limerick

26 Thursday Apr 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in April Writing, limerick, Poems, Poetry

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

#AprilWriting, #poetry, #writingprompt, dorindaduclos.com, gas, gaseous, limerick, Night Owl Poetry, poems, whimsy, writing


Poor Agnes was the laugh of her class

Twas a gaseous young thing, this poor lass

But she was quite a hoot

Every time she would toot

Sent you running from the room, en masse

 

April Writing Prompt:  Ozone siphoning and other atmospheric disruptions – Day 26/30

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Free images by pngtree.com

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The Doorway to Impossibility ~ #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AprilWriting

25 Wednesday Apr 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in #NaPoWriMo, April Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

#AprilWriting, #NaPoWriMo, doorway, dragons, fantasy, impossibility, iron gate, National Poetry Month, Night Owl Poetry, poems, princess, uncertainty, word prompt, writing


In front of the iron gateway

She stood, thinking about her life

She was once a princess, fair

Now a woman, filled with strife

Things were becoming impossible

With each day, she tried to decide

Should she open up the bars?

And step into the realm, on the other side?

Something told her, she’d better chance it

Dare not leave a dragon, waiting for his bride

One last glance, then through the doorway

Uncertainty leaving her, by the wayside

 

 

 

April Writing Prompt:  The Doorway to Impossibility – Day 25/30

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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Friends Don’t Lie ~ #AprilWriting #fiction

24 Tuesday Apr 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in April Writing, Fiction, Poems, Poetry

≈ 34 Comments

Tags

#AprilWriting, #shortstory, #writingprompt, bully, Bullying, death, dorindaduclos.com, Fiction, friends, grave, haystack, lies, lying, murder, Night Owl Poetry, revenge, secrets, writing


Friends don’t lie. Oh, but they do, about everything. Even the secrets you tell them not to tell, they run as fast as they can to tell everyone. Everyone, except me. I was the quiet one, the one you could actually tell a secret to, and not have to worry. I promised you I would go to my grave with them. And that’s exactly what I did.

It was 1939. School was out for the summer, and the children in the neighborhood gathered together for some games. One boy, we’ll call him James, was always the bully. He made sure the smaller kids ran away. He said he didn’t want any babies playing with him. I was one of those babies. But I never ran. I think he admired me for that. I stood up to him. But on this particular day, he fought back. Chasing me around the old farmer’s plantation, screaming and cursing at me, I continued to run around in circles. He couldn’t find me. I had hidden myself behind a haystack. Finally giving up, he ran back to the others.

I couldn’t see them but I could hear them. They were laughing. I didn’t know at what, but I found out soon enough. James made up lies about me. He said I was really a girl and he made me show him my girl parts, and made me do disgusting things with him. I’m not a girl, and I never showed or did anything. How could he spread lies about me this way? And then my whole world crumbled.

I overheard Danny telling them a story about me, one he’d promised me he’d never tell. I could feel my face redden and was grateful no one could see me behind this mound of hay. I thought Danny was my best friend. A year older than I was, he usually protected me from being bullied. I was the smallest of the group, not yet dealing with a growth spurt. And my voice squeaked from time to time. It made me a target, especially for James. Something very different happened on this day. Danny was laughing with all of them. He wasn’t defending me, he was ridiculing me. How did I know? I knew his voice better than I knew my own. I slowly came out from behind the haystack and stood there, waiting for them to see me, waiting for Danny to tell me it was all joke.

When they realized I was standing there, they ran at me, like a wild pack of wolves, hungry for their prey. I didn’t move. To be honest, I was scared to death. I let them tackle me, pound me into the ground, until the light faded and I no longer heard them. I can only imagine they left me there, just walked away. I wanted to know if Danny went with them, or if he stayed to make sure I was okay. But I wasn’t okay. I heard the sirens, and felt a rush of hands lifting me onto a gurney, pushing against me, and I could hear them, calling my name. I answered, but they didn’t hear me.

I never awakened that day. I’m just a lost soul, wandering, waiting to find my entrance into the hereafter. No one knew what really happened to me. The group of boys who killed me, walked away without even a slap on the hand. Why, you might ask? Because no one ever found out who did it. When the police questioned them, they lied. They blamed it on old farmer Bob. After all, I was on his land, and no one was allowed to trespass without consequence.

So, you see, I went to my grave with a very big secret. But my time here on Earth wasn’t finished. I was only 12 years old. I still had much to do. And so I kept myself hidden behind that old stack of hay, waiting, watching, and patiently plotting the perfect time for my revenge.  I wasn’t in a hurry.  I had all the time in the world…

 

April Writing Prompt:  Friends Don’t Lie – Day 24/30

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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