Posts Tagged ‘Dead’

8
Sep

Dead Flowers

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

I was still in my twenties. A woman at the bar grabbed my arm and asked for my help. But I also would have rather done the tying than be the one tied up. Faraway in time, my doctor was phoning me with the results of the biopsy. I had what he called “an oddball cancer.” Of course, I did. What other kind would a poet have? The woman, her back now to me, was singing along with the jukebox about all the lonely people, a small, crumpled sound like foul dead flower water at the bottom of a vase.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie’s newest poetry collection, Heart-Shaped Hole, is available from Laughing Ronin Press. He co-edits the online journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.

24
May

Scarlett And Phineas: A Love Story

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Scarlett looks away. “I will pray for your soul, Phineas.”

Phineas smiles. “The trees pray for me every day when I walk past them. The vines, the grass, every creature around pray for our souls when we are dead.”

“I pray you will fall to the ground, decompose and be used as fertilizer, causing the land to flourish. And since you are an honorable and chivalrous man, you may even be the savior of the many creatures, some of which you love dearly.”

“Thank you, Scarlett. I can only pray for your death similarly. It’s the least I can do.”

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

8
May

Dreams In Green

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Standing here on this frigid night, I look out over a frozen landscape, and I can’t help but wonder why?. There is still hope. Maybe one day, this land will come back to life, the trees will grow, the water will flow, and the air will smell fresh and clean.

I can still feel the excitement coursing through me, the sense of wonder at seeing something so beautiful. The land of ice and snow holds a strange sort of magic.

But the land is not dead. It’s only sleeping, waiting for inspiration or something green to grow the days away.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

31
Mar

Hospice

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Having survived hospice twice is something. No one wants to talk about hospice. Reason? People go there to die. And? I assure you I am dead. Laughter. How are you writing this? I have no idea. In yet? I watched people starved to death. I have seen 130 pound man starved down to looking like a leftover turkey at a Homer Simpson Thanksgiving. I have seen people wave one hour prior to their death. I have watched as people in authority have forgotten to feed people. Sounds wicked. And maybe it is. God has to judge the people. Deathly endings.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

6
Feb

The Curse Of Forest Mother

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Muma is crying like a child while we are watching the river runs red and dead. The hills above us are crumbling away into the deep, giant sinkholes. The ancient forests are cut down or burned. Muma’s hand is so cold, her body is trembling like a leaf. Muma’s lips are motionless but I can hear her silent curse…

Now I understand the meaning of those untold words and feel the real wonder and power of her inner voice. The end is near because we are human and humans must be punished for all crimes against our dear Mother Nature.

From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic

23
Jan

Man-Eater

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

It’s rare, but a fact that there are man-eating lions. My friend is dead because of one, attacked in his tent while sleeping. The screams and tearing of flesh are still vivid in my mind.

I hear the low growl and then it leaps from behind the trees. I point the rifle and as soon as it jumps to take me down, I fire one shot at its head, the lion falling on top of me dead, eyes unblinking. I roll the mighty beast off my body and stand.

I hear a roar. There’s a second.

This time I miss.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

22
Dec

Reality Shift

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

Seventeen doctor visits to prove my mind was sound. In yet? I assured them that Abe Lincoln was a senator in my world. And? To me, the rapture had happened. Meaning? I was missing two billion people from a couple of days before. Did they believe me? I had photos to show them. They started feeding me pills to shut me up. What did the photos show? Deagel.com showed a population of 8.5 billion and? The current reality had 6.3 billion people. They said Photoshop. I laughed. Why? To realize one is dead when breathing is not what one expects.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Clinton is a blogger, disabled, filmmaker, and poet living in La Paz, Bolivia.

16
May

All Below Was Sky

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

All below was sky. No, that isn’t right. You are upside down. The seatbelt keeps you suspended a foot above ground. Blood swells and pounds in your temples, or was it the whiskey? Frank was on the street.

Ejected. He had been thrown fifty feet.

Dead and dusky.

His seersucker shirt plunged a deep v on a chest of ringlets. Oxford buttons pin a lapel dyed crimson. You count the spots on a ladybug as it skitters across. Stripes and six spots. A gnarled oak casts shade on the misshapen corners of a green license plate.

A wailing siren approaches.

From Guest Contributor Kyle J. Ames

Kyle is a student of English at Pikes Peak Community College

2
Mar

Haunted

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

We lived in that house, but we died in it too. It ravished the souls of the living and confined those of the dead. We lived with our eyes closed, but we died with them open. It took us slowly, a gradual disorientation of the senses. We lived far too short, but we died ages ago. It trapped us with a treacherous hive mind, seduced by the whispers in the walls. We lived apart, but we died together. It didn’t hurt and it won’t hurt for you. I watch at the edge of your bed; the ghoul in the shadows.

From Guest Contributor Margaret Gleason

Currently, Margaret Gleason attends Pikes Peak Community College, but has dreams of writing, coding, and drawing her own video games.

22
Feb

A Dream

by thegooddoctor in 100 Words

The house is empty, and my bags are packed. I don’t know where I’m going, but I reach for and open the front door anyway, ready for whatever awaits me on the other side. I realize I’ve left the radio on, though, so I turn around and go back to take care of that. While I’m doing this someone or something scurries through the front door. I look and see that it’s my brother’s dog, Oswald. “You can’t be here,” I say. “You’re dead.” Oswald wags his tail and tells me that he’s here to take me to the afterlife.

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten