-- a Poem for Weekly Scribblings # 42
Gone
Thirty years have passed
But I remember still
Seemed like yesterday
Same crowd except for Luke
Outskirts of our town
Cemetery visit
Halloween ghosts
Goblins too real scary
Down in the corner
A few carnations waved
When we neared we stopped
Twilight nearing the night
Something was not right
A grave freshly covered
Amateur work showed
Human leg sticking out
Slowly coming close
Other leg chewed away
Bone splinters around
Filled our treat bags with bone
Something rustling near
Let out blood curdling howl
Teeth barred deadly growl
We grabbed our bags and ran
Keeper of the bones
Job they elected me
Stashed under my bed
Guarded by boogey man
Years pased I'm renowned
Bone artist carved and cast
Grinding those splinters
Was in back of my mind
Art piece remembrance
Bone paste into the mold
Hardened then polished
A rosary fit for Queen
Put it on display
Think now where would it be
Go back to that grave
Hang it on the tombstone
Gathering our crowd
Except for Luke we go
Halloween is here
Twilight we are not seen
The broach in the bag
Tombstone is now in sight
Would wolves come again
Something is different
Sleek stone name we know
It's Luke surprise surprise
Gone ragged fellow
Hang the rosary here
_ _ _
- Poem Copyright, Jimmiehov 2020, All Rights Reserved
- Linked to Weekly Scribblings # 42, prompt by Magaly Guerrero and introductory by MMT -- read her instructions and of MMT's workings at
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posted by Jim @ 10/22/2020 01:15:00 AM
9 comments
9 Comments:
Mysterious. There really IS a "Bone Church" in the Czech Republic - google it, it is pretty interesting - over 40,000 skeletons were used.
I wonder what sent look into the grave.
That was a spooky one! Gruesome too, thinking of him grinding the bones and molding the bone paste.
What a story! Feeling bad for poor old Luke! BOO.
Full circle--like a rosary!
It is good to be taken somewhere where you feel uncomfortable and how well you did this Jim for your readers with this poem.
Good write!
You made this into an enthralling story. (I think your protagonist and mine might be first cousins!)
Great tale; poor old Luke.
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