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Night Owl Poetry – Dorinda Duclos

~ "The silence of the night awakens my soul"

Night Owl Poetry – Dorinda Duclos

Tag Archives: revenge

Vengeance – #poetry – #JanuaryWriting

14 Monday Jan 2019

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in January Writing, Poetry

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

#JanuaryWriting, #poetry, crew, death, dorindaduclos.com, full moon, Night Owl Poetry, revenge, sea, ship, storm, vengeance, waves, writing, writing prompt


Under full moon’s light, as the thunder crashed

A deserted ship, against murderous waves, thrashed

There was no one aboard, they had perished that night

As the boat, bobbed and swayed, such a terrible sight

Once a crew of twenty, one by one, fell to the sea

Washed away with the tides which claimed victory

No bodies were found, on those waters, enraged

When guided by the full moon, cannot be assuaged

That was her vengeance, this storm, she delivered

Left behind, nothing more, than a craft, fully slivered

 

January Writing Prompt – The storm raged on without any hope of being saved – Day 14/31

©2019 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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Plumes of a Pigeon ~ On the trail of a mastermind – #JulyWriting

06 Friday Jul 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in July Writing, short story

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

#JulyWriting, babbling detective, crime solving, detective, dirt, dorindaduclos.com, eruptions, flaw, Night Owl Poetry, pigeon, plume, Putting My Feet in the Dirt, revelations, revenge, snooping, trail, vigilant, vigilante, words, writing, writing prompt, ~M

Join me every day at Noon EST for the continuing adventures of the bungling detective, N. Owl, in her quest to bring the mastermind, ~M, to justice!  If you’ve  missed any episodes, you can find them HERE!


Little did we know that ~M had another place she kept her secrets hidden. A place she called “Her Writing Haven”. THIS is where she would strategically pen her poems, which I was pretty sure were really secrets messages to her army. I decided to take the crew out one night, past ~M’s place, to see if we could figure out where this other lair was. As we got closer to the place I first saw her with her feet in that God awful dirt, I noticed something rather odd laying on the ground. I picked it up and examined it. It appeared to be a feather from a bird. Not one you’d normally see around here, though.

I asked Cory if he knew what kind of bird this came from. Upon closer inspection, he triumphantly shouted, “It’s the plume of a pigeon!” at which point we all smacked him for shouting so loud. There was movement in the bushes. I thought we had been made for sure, but as I pulled everyone back behind an old oak tree, we saw what was making the noise. It was a pigeon. Poor dear, it had lost half its feathers. Or had it. I looked at the feather I had picked up and realized it had something dark on the tip of it. INK! This was ~M’s plume, the one, or one of the one’s she used to pen those crazy word lists of hers.

We must be close to her haven or this bird would not be here. I looked up, and in the window of the house, next to the one where she had been sitting with her feet in the dirt, was ~M! I could see she was busy writing away, another plume in her hand. That dastardly woman! How could she do that to a poor pigeon? Maybe he pooped on her and she got mad. Revenge? Anyway, didn’t matter. We had found her.

I motioned to the others, signaling this was our chance to head over to the other house and snoop around for clues. One of us needed to remain behind to be sure ~M didn’t go anywhere. After arguing for several minutes, I booted them all, and made Fred stay behind. Geez, nothing’s ever easy.

Tiptoeing away from the house, hiding in the shadows, we made our way over. The front door was locked. So we headed around to the back. There was a deck, and of course, the back door was locked, too. Guess you can’t be too safe in this neighborhood. We needed another plan to enter the house undetected. No amount of gas was going to work here. We had to try something else.

 

Stay tuned for more from this crime solving wordsmith…

 

July Writing Prompt – Plumes of a pigeon – Day 6/31

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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In Cahoots with Chaos ~ #JuneWriting #poetry

19 Tuesday Jun 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in June Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

#JuneWriting, #poetry, birds, cahoots, castle, chaos, dorindaduclos.com, Night Owl Poetry, poems, revenge, writing, writing prompt


Standing tall, upon the rocks

She beckons them to come

Circling yonder castle, there

Blackened wings do thrum

Banished by the reigning Queen

She seeks revenge, upon this land

Calling to her mighty birds

This crusade, so carefully planned

Watching, as they battle strong

With chaos, she’s in cahoots

As finally, the castle, to her calls

And she regains her treasured roots

 

June Writing Prompt – In cahoots with chaos – Day 19/30

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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Torturous Turnips ~ #JuneWriting #poetry

15 Friday Jun 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in June Writing, Poems, Poetry

≈ 31 Comments

Tags

#JuneWriting, #poetry, dorindaduclos.com, Night Owl Poetry, poems, revenge, stew, torture, turnips, whimsical, writing, writing prompt


She did it on purpose, I know it!
Put those gross little things in the stew
Tried to disguise them as potatoes
Leaving me no choice, but to spew

Carrots and peas, flying everywhere
Beef, shredded, more than before
Those torturous turnips, defeated
I threw the rest of them on the floor!

 

Partially based on a true story. I never ate my mother-in-law’s stew again lol

June Writing Prompt – Torturous turnips – Day 15/30

©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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