One Town Over – #poetry – #AprilWriting

07 Sunday Apr 2019

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in April Writing, Poems, Poetry

Tags

#AprilWriting, #poetry, detective, dorindaduclos.com, fugitive, gun, knife, murder, Night Owl Poetry, noose, poems, police, weapons, writing, writing prompt

Too many weapons left behind
To figure out who did the deed
A detective was handed the case
Hoped he’d have all he’d need

Evidence, placed upon his desk
A knife, a noose and a gun
Not really knowing where to begin
He knew this wouldn’t be fun

Taking out his trusty magnifier
He checked the weapons, again
Finding only one little clue
The evidence, was surely plain

When finally reaching a conclusion
He presented his case to the chief
Shaking his head at the detective
He stood there, in disbelief

How could this possibly be? he asked
Which one of the weapons matched?
Twas a fingerprint, upon the gun
To a certain someone, attached

Seems Chief has been up to no good
Got caught with the new recruit
The misses found out, set him up
Then quickly, gave him the boot

Now the chief’s in the slammer
No longer is he the top cop
As for the real murder weapon
One town over, at the old pawnshop

April Writing Prompts – A fugitive on the loose, where’s the noose? – Day 7/30

The Widow’s Web – #poetry – #MarchWriting

28 Thursday Mar 2019

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in March Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

#MarchWriting, #poetry, dorindaduclos.com, murder, Night Owl Poetry, poems, web. widow, writing, writing prompt

She counts them equally, on both hands

Her strands of silken threads, surround

The widow, they call her, cross the land

She’ll wrap you up, until you are bound

Capturing men like flies, in her web

She seductively chooses, which one

Little by little, their life starts to ebb

Til they are through, her job, now done

Still, no one has been able to stop this

She keeps doing devilish deeds, yes sir

It happens so fast, without even a kiss

Sated, until her next meal does occur

March Writing Prompts – The widow’s web – Day 28/31

Shady Sadie ~ #poetry #DecemberWriting

29 Saturday Dec 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in December Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

#DecemberWriting, dorindaduclos.com, fireplace, ghost, haunting, murder, Night Owl Poetry, writing, writing prompt

The fire had long gone out
Not even a spark remained
The clock on the wall said 2AM
And she was totally drained

She leaned against the stone
Perhaps, to feel some heat
Nary could a sound be heard
Only a thrum, like a heartbeat

She stood there, daydreaming
Knowing she should go to bed
When something eerie came over her
The alcohol had gone to her head

A sweet whisper over the silence
Shook her to her very core
Afraid to look to see who was there
Quickly, she ran, for the door

Finding there was no way out
She turned around, and then
Staring back at her, over her photo
Was dearly departed Gwen!

She screamed when realized who
Then froze, right where she stood
Gwen had no reason to come to her
She knew this couldn’t be good

Poor Sadie, she thought she was finished
When she shot her, with a gun full of lead
But Gwen wasn’t finished with Sadie
She would haunt her until she was dead

December Writing Prompt – The floating orb hovered over the painting above the hearth – Day 29/31

The Muffin Thief ~ #poetry #DecemberWriting

26 Wednesday Dec 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in December Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

#DecemberWriting, bake, chef, dorindaduclos.com, muffins, murder, Night Owl Poetry, queen, spoon, thief, writing, writing prompt

The staff was in a snit, the head chef had a fit
She baked a batch of muffins, for the queen
Set them on a stool, near a window, just to cool
Now the breads, were nowhere to be seen

Pondered what to do, waited, a minute or two
Hoped to catch this terrible, muffin thief
She realized her spoon, was nowhere in the room
Now, this was going way beyond belief

Set a trap, a deadly fate, hoped they’d take the bait
A half a muffin sat, on the kitchen table
In came Carla May, spoon and muffin, on display
Shocked to see the goods, but where was Mabel?

Much to her surprise, the table began to rise
Scared the daylights, right out of Carla May
She looked around, but didn’t know, where she’d go
So she stood there, didn’t try to get away

The chef approached her prey, had waited for this day
To meet the thief who stole the precious cakes
Carla hit her with the spoon, on that fateful afternoon
Now she’s the chef, and eats whatever she bakes

December Writing Prompt – A half-eaten muffin and a spoon where all that remained – Day 26/31