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A new blog to contain answers to prompts |
| Prompt: Take any cliche and subvert it to bring it alive again in a poem or a blog entry. ----------- Bag of Bones They said, "This baby, a bag of bones!" and rattled, "She may not even throw stones" a bag of bones, where my shadow lies World War II, macabre with gray skies. But dreams I've built and spells I've cast, I charted my course, battled the past. Alas, today, other lines are drawn, fears of war wail from dusk to dawn. Although people speak in whispers low, in death's embrace, demons can grow. So, this bag of bones sways and waits... as, just one click, next war dictates. Such a shame it is, to undo the seams! Or let's mend the world, guard our dreams? I hold my breath and hear the moans and warnings from all bags of bones. |
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