Tuesday, December 5, 2017

A Ross Balcom Double Feature: "to stone" and "a black dog story"

Editor's Note:  On rare occasions, "life happens" and we are unable to get a feature posted.  Such was the case yesterday.  To compensate for this mishap, please enjoy the following double feature by Frequent Contributor Ross Balcom.

to stone
Ross Balcom

these
the blank years...

purge all visions
from your mind

let the leprous moon
consume you

you who know
no sun

climb the stairs
at midnight

to her whose loins 
await you

loins 
already turned

to stone

Poet's Notes: Midnight mineralization negates nookie. This is a rather bleak poem. 


*************************************************************************************************************************
a black dog story

a black dog story
I'm telling you

a black dog story
a phantom dog

huge, black 
red eyes glowing

on my lawn
at midnight

hellhound
staring through me

a black dog story
I'm telling you

it leapt through me
took my soul

my twisting, 
shrieking soul

left me vacant
empty

I lost it 
lost it all

in a black dog story

--Ross Balcom

Poet's Notes:  Frightening encounters with phantom black dogs are reported worldwide. This is my poetic nod to the phenomenon. (Next up on my terror list: phantom black squirrels.)

Editor’s Note:  I personally identify with this poem, as every time I enjoy a cup of tea, I mean every single time, I am always left with "the grim" in the bottom of my cup.  I am not sure what that says about me, but it cannot be good.  Oh, no. 

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