The Ballad of the Slime King: Part 1

Day 15/Poem 11

This is a work in progress about the D&D game I’m playing (written by my bard with delusions of grandeur). Will it make much sense? Probably not. But I want credit for it for NaPo so I’m posting.

The Ballad of the Slime King: Part 1

Now gather around the fire bright
paw to paw and wing to wing
and you’ll hear a tale like none before
about the birth of the great Slime King.

Where he hailed from none could say
where he came from none could see.
Bold Duke traveled the western woods alone.
Despite his name, no nobility

save the glint of mischief in his eye,
the blade clenched within his beak.
They told legends of adventures wild
before he could drop his knife and speak.

In Winnowing Reach, our Corvum heard the tale
of a missing maiden fair
who had wandered into the Mokky swamp
and vanished into air.

The magistrate sent word far and wide
to the bravest in the land:
“The hero who brings my dear daughter home
will win that maiden’s hand.”

Our Duke required no such prize
but could not resist the call
of adventure, slime, and glory.
How he longed to taste them all.

But this task would not be easy.
Duke needed strength and charm and wit
so he searched the gathered heroes
until he found a team that fit.

Maeve the Possum also roamed alone,
a strange creature at first look,
but when Duke sought the expert on all slimes
he learned she wrote the book.

They were joined by gentle Airmed,
her spikes done up with flowers,
who would care for them, both guide and heal
with her clever Hedgewitch powers.

Yet our unlikely team still needed help,
needed brawn and some panache.
Then they heard commotion from the square.
Who could that be? Oh my gosh!

There a Rabbit white stood tall and strong,
power coiled in his hocks.
He announced his name was Snowfur
and on wheels he pulled a box.

As you know, a box oft holds a gift
and this one was no exception
for out stepped a mighty bandit queen –
or was that merely a deception?

For the Mapach maid who stunned the crowd
was an actress in disguise:
multi-talented bard named Marigold
who the crowd soon recognized.

This furred duo had performed great feats
that were told across the land
but they humbly offered their support
to the Corvum and his band.

The Winnowers brought out food and wine
for their savior’s final feast
before they took to Mokkden Caverns
to face threats both slime and beast.

The Amazing Survival of the Opossum

Day 12/Poem 10

This might be my last Strangest Things in the World poem because I’m out of Doomies. The Amazing Survival of the Opossum, Cliff.

The Amazing Survival of the Opossum

Best not be too good at anything. Don’t run, don’t hide, don’t fight. Play dead. If there’s suffering to be suffered, fucking suffer it. The weak inherit the earth, right? The soft and bloated endure. Sit still and let the foes and dangers pass.

Poison Arrow

Day 12/Poem 9

More Strangest Things, but this also kind of relates to today’s tall tale prompt: Poison Arrow Frogs, Rouge.

Poison Arrow

My love is brilliant
scarlet, acrobatic,
a delicate impossible
creature, sure-footed, elusive, envy,
toxin. More afraid of me than I should be
of her. I’m bigger, after all. But when I build a fire
and turn her on a stick – 500 degrees and
rising – she won’t die easy, she’ll fill my lungs
until I drown.

Remarkable Orchids

Day 11/Poem 8

Another take on Strangest Things. Remarkable Orchids, Larry & the spirit.

Remarkable Orchids

We open our mouth
to the moonlight and hope
for insect kisses.
We don’t glow, just mirror.
What kind of madman would collect
a thing like us? But here, gallery,
greenhouse, rooted in water,
climbing the walls, climbing
each other, blurring the barrier:
host, parasite.

Cards to Save Humanity

Day 11/Poem 7

I tried today’s monostich prompt with my new tarot deck. A story gradually ended up coming together which is also kind of how I feel these days and why I’m writing so slowly.

Cards to Save Humanity

You played mermaids one too many times at the neighborhood pool.

Off you go, now, tripping on your feet.

You will never see your sisters again once your hair runs dry.

The sun shouldn’t be this red.

Someone an ocean away speaks your name without evidence and you must draw the tower around you like a quilt.

You hang heavy in the air for such a small thing.

You’ve never held a sword in your life.

Perhaps today the lion in your ear will settle.

You will take what you can get.

You don’t remember what it was to sleep through the night with no one crying.

Siren Song

Day 10/Poem 6

Nothing serious, but this item from Yesterday’s Print cracked me up.

Siren Song

Hey there, handsome. I’ve been searching
for a big, strong man and you’re just the thing.
It’s just I’ve got this awful problem, see,
and all the arsenic I’ve tried wouldn’t take.
Where’s a gal like me to turn?
Could you? Maybe? Oh, I’d love you
forever or at least til they lock you away.

Running Out

Day 9/Poem 5

I’m just sticking with that same prompt again because it’s the only one that’s working for me. The Lizard That Runs Out of Its Own Skin, Vic.

Running Out

Catch a boy by the tail and he can’t respawn
like some squirming gecko. He’s done for.
There is metal in my veins, nanoscopic,
replacing any human frailty with machine.

You undressed me once, holding out
my empty skin, showing me raw.
All the rest of me is prey-drive, instinct,
running. Hiding. Flaying myself alive.

If I buy a new skin to cover up how much
of me is me? Is there a way to put me back
together? The great scientific minds suck
their tongues, confer, call it highly
improbable.

A Flower That Grows Through Solid Ice

Day 4/Poem 4

My third The Strangest Things in the World poem: “A Flower That Grows Through Solid Ice” and Doom Patrol’s Dorothy.

A Flower That Grows Through Solid Ice

Dormant underground for several girlhoods now,
I awake from slumber, water tickling my rootlets.
Cue the usual transformations. I rise, I burn
through soil and snow, I shed the leathers
that used to protect me. I surface.
I blue-blanket the ice with moonwort.

Marquee

Day 4/Poem 3

Another The Strangest Things in the World/Doom Patrol combo. Many images and words taken from “Rubber-Band Worms that Stretch and Stretch.” Rita.

Marquee

I have become a weapon. No, a whole arsenal.
I have eyes that see, ears that hear. I am endless.
Versatile. I am delicate yet I keep on, eat myself
in times of hardship. I secrete my own houses.
I am barbed, coiled. The most brilliant
ever seen. I am an inextricable knot. Giantess,
revolutionary, tenacious of life. A little
immortality. I have survived. I have survived.

The Invisible Underground Jungle

Day 4/Poem 2

The news is bleak and I have not had poems in me for the most part. But in addition to doom scrolling, I’ve been watching Doom Patrol for the first time. I looked at Thomas R. Henry’s The Strangest Things in the World for today’s prompt, saw the very first entry (The Invisible Underground Jungle) and immediately realized that this prompt goes perfectly with the characters. I’m hoping to write at least 3 of these so I can catch up again. Here’s Jane. Some language borrowed directly from the text.

The Invisible Underground Jungle

Our numbers vary from time to time, from place, and so many keep to the dark
that who can count? And we’re smaller than marbles, easy to lose, not half
as shiny. We are a seething mass unseen by man (as far as we know) but one man
diagnoses us benign, another parasites, another “one of the major menaces
of our civilization.” Who has the spoons for that, for mankind at large?
We are many but are we enough? Should there be more of us? This job
is titanic (as in giant, as in doomed, as in drowning) and we could all join hands
in a line and still fit on a single gram of soil, a crumb.