This is Love, This is Murder: Day 9

Tonight’s theme is Secrets Under the Bed, and to explore this theme I have decided to write an  Alliterisen poem where x=13. Also, catch up on Ellen’s latest posts here.


There was something strange about him; oddly wonderful
Tyron could not put his finger on it as he sat right there
Staring at the man he went home with that dark night
It was never that easy for him; he was shy, quiet
“Your place is nice,” he said; the man kissed him quick
He wasted no time; his lips dancing on Tyron’s neck
Dizziness… Tyron pulled away; “What was in that drink?”

Alliterisen: a seven-lined poem with a specific syllable pattern and two alliterations per line. Syllable structure is x, x+2, x-1, (x+2)-1, x-2, (x+2)-2, x. Where x= 8,9,10,11,12, or 13.

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Rainy Days

Today’s post is a story inspired by the artwork of a friend of mine. To check out the drawing by my friend Chris that inspired this story click HERE.

This month is Sexual Assault Awareness month which is an important month for many people around the world and a great time for everyone to get educated on ways they can become involved in supporting resources and support systems for those who have been sexually assaulted. For more information check out:

I hope you all enjoy this poem!

A Tale of Storms and Shadows

La’Mia sat in the dark thinking of hot food and her
              granny’s stories
Her granny could tell a ghost story, back when La’Mia
              had no worries
A time that La’Mia only recalled in her dreams; when she
              did have dreams
It seemed as if all of her waking and sleeping thoughts
              were filled with pain
Happy times were long past due, and hope was not
              allowed, it did seem
La’Mia gazed out of the window, her mind storming as
              she smelled the rain
                    If you could call a tiny hole in the wall a window
                                  at all
                    La’Mia was dead and desolated inside; devoured
                                   by demons, she couldn’t hide

The door burst open and La’Mia didn’t move, she knew
              what was coming
A tall pale man stomped into the cell, a grin on his face,
              his lips humming
It was her time, the hangman was waiting in the rain,
              she chose not to resist
“Get up, you witch!” the man spat out; that shit didn’t
              phase La’Mia anymore
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, soon it would
              all cease to exist
She followed the white-haired man to the gallows,
              people screaming up a roar
                    Up the wooden steps, fear to the wind, her fate
                                   was pinned
                    La’Mia made patient peace with her past, pride
                                   and prejudice did not last

The crowd that wanted her dead and called her a witch,
              took her sister too
La’Mia watched her sister burn at the stake, there was
              nothing she could do
And at that moment she was ready for it all to be over,
              she wanted to move on
The rain washed over her brown skin and she smiled,
              hoping to see her sister soon
Suddenly a voice, echoed in her ear telling her not to
              stand there like a silly pawn
She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky; she
              couldn’t see it but she felt the moon
                    Glistening, it spoke to her and said, “Your power
                                  isn’t dead.”
                    La’Mia summoned her sacred power, spirits and
                                  secrets ready to devour

The rain stopped and La’Mia broke loose
She attacked with vengeance from her noose
Cursing and hexing all those that wished for her death
La’Mia ripped hearts out of rib cages with every breath
              La’Mia got vengeance but all for a price, petty,
                            petulant, and prideful but wasn’t it nice?

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