The Curse

Prostate on the fetid jungle floor,

Draped in the red and orange ornamental cotton robes of a monk

He lay mesmerized by the tablets shambolic scribble.

What could this possibly mean?

Hands shaking as he held the tablet, deep down he knew.

Though menacing, with his henna facial markings,

He had an uneasy feeling that he could not diffuse.

Fraught with fear, he reached for his decanter of Holy Water,

Thinking he could protect himself from this Pagan curse..

Chanting, the lowly monk prayed that the grace of his God would save him,

But alas, the synthesis of prayer and paraphernalia could not shield his mortal soul.

Gasping his last breath and with devotion still in his failing heart

The lowly monk rose with tablet raised overhead and struck,

Shattering the curse over a rock that lay before him,

Praying that the tablets curse with him would die

Never to plague mankind again.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

~

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie - Wordle #11

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #11

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #11

Every Face

I live life walking amongst the masses

Seeing stories in every face,

In every wrinkle, smile, frown,

In every scar and freckle,

Real or imagined they speak to me.

Their silence, writing volumes,

Horror, action, romance, fact, fiction,

Genre’–It is for me to decide,

Bending reality into a thing of make believe.

My entertainment is paramount,

Turning the commonplace to adventure,

Breathing life into the mundane.

This is the art, the medium unimportant,

Though mine is of the word.

Looking in the mirror

You could not possibly see what I see,

For it lives only in my mind

Until it boils over onto paper.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Stories – A Tanka

Stories fill my mind

Plot and character consume

Writing is a drug

No less addictive than crack

and no less of a life changer

~

~~ Dominic R  DiFrancesco ~~

Love of the Word

Travel to cliffs of Scotland tall

Ancient cities with golden scroll

Coliseum of wonder your columns fall

Time, wind and rain have taken their toll

~

Fairytale lands with walkways of gold

Rabbits, a queen and Mad Hatters

Through Grimm and Poe the stories unfold

Whether Jack and his beanstalk does itt matter

~

Absorbed in Whitman’s Leaves of Grass

A cup of tea with Sherlock Holmes

Or Steinbeck’s exquisite Grapes of Wrath

When a Tree Grows in Brooklyn you’re never alone

~

Traveling around the world in 80 days

Digging treasure on an island deserted

Meeting the end in Moby Dick’s’ way

Though Scrooge’s demise is diverted

~

Dumas’ Musketeers are dashing them all

A letter of scarlet emblazoned

The howl of the wolf in the wild was called

Romeo and Juliet still amazes

~

The beauty of words in fiction, poem or prose

Allows travel to faraway lands

Mystery, adventure or as love stories show

The pricelessness of books in the hand

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Hell’s Minion – A Dark Poem

Image Credit: goodreads.com

Image Credit: goodreads.com

A mist lay o’er the old town square,

As candles flicker in cottage eyes,

To venture out, no one may dare,

Emboldened fool will surely die.

~

In darkened night the moon lay black,

Unearthly pitch to ward off man,

Fear for those who’ve not come back,

Fell prey to Satan’s ghastly plan.

~

Yon forest breaths the caw of crows,

Hoot Owls cry echoes resound,

In what direction no one knows,

From high above the mossy ground.

~

What Hell bestowed on sky and earth,

In shrill and curdling scream,

Instilled by evils wretched birth,

Unfurled in nightmarish dream.

~

The butcher lay to weed us out,

His sickle bathed in blood and spoils,

Gullet cut, no voice to shout,

Easy prey…Nay! sweatless toil.

~

Demon cloaked in onyx murk,

Ne’er seen with mortal’s naked view,

O’ terror, we shan’t let caution shirk,

Vigilant we must all struggle through.

.~

Pray to God the sun will rise,

Beseech the villain back to Hell,

Look upon Heaven to flay disguise,

Release from prison where we dwell.

~

Still sun will set and night will grow,

No closer to trapping the horrid beast,

In faces of strangers and kin we know,

Who next be the blood bathed gory feast.

~

A tap at the door…whom by God could it be,

Overwhelmed with the play of the mind,

Ever slow did I open through pitch could not see,

Peeking head ‘round the door from behind.

~

Twas it wind, or rain, mayhaps a stone at it threw,

I presumed was a knock at the door,

Mustered courage did I gather to do what I must do,

As I shuffled myself to the porch.

~

An icy chill did rise, up the length of my spine,

As the door slammed behind me with haste,

Extinguishing candles, immersing me blind,

Backing up in my steps I did trace.

~

My next to last step to my knees did I fall,

At the boots of a figure in black,

Turning ‘round, sure to face my funeral pall,

To the side of my head he did crack.

~

Taste of blood on my lips, as the iron from a fire,

Blurred vision as I’m yanked by my hair,

To my feet I was dragged to the square of the shire,

Say a word, nay I wouldn’t have dared.

~

In silence, with strength this devil held tight,

Pray I did, for my soul to please save,

As courage I gathered with all of my might,

I begged for my death to be staved.

~

With sickle in hand I knew time was through,

Pay the piper for sins of my youth,

Upright and firm, though in pain it was true,

In death sins be hidden from truth.

~

Blade razor sharp from my neck blood did fall,

Crimson rivers down my chest it did spill,

A stroke from the edge warm and tired was all,

Up to God I commit all my will.

~

When daybreak did come to reveal gruesome site,

To Hell where the demon had fled,

Nary trace did he leave from his pitch darkened flight,

Except for the shire dwellers head.

~

A century on, Satan’s minion ne’er captured,

Legend passed down through third generations,

Unsettled and fearful still awaiting the rapture,

Asking God for consoling libations.

~~~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~