Daddy’s job is dangerous, which must explain his fame.
Total strangers recognize him by the badge that bears his name.
We may watch him from a distance—never near while he’s at toil,
Since to his front is scorching steel; beside him, boiling oil.
Though mobs may separate us, love is not deterred by that.
He simply waves his spatula or tips his paper hat.
Legacy creative writing blog for Shawn M. Klimek.
Friday, May 8, 2020
Wednesday, March 4, 2020
Horrible Six-word Stories
Suicidal, a bullet changed her mind.
In the corpse’s fist: angel feathers.
The autopsy revealed a beating heart.
The earthworms spelled out, “I’m alive.”
Death came early. “Typical”, she said.
In the corpse’s fist: angel feathers.
The autopsy revealed a beating heart.
The earthworms spelled out, “I’m alive.”
Death came early. “Typical”, she said.
The children made bloody snow angels.
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Pixie The Pixie
Pixie, the Pixie, deplored that her name
And descriptor were spoken and written the same.
She despised superfluity and superabundance; She
Disliked repetitiveness and likewise redundancy.
Each day she recited this rote, self-defeating:
"Once and for all is a phrase worth repeating,"
Which sums up our ditty and wraps up our rhyme.
For your homework now, read it through twice, one more time.
And descriptor were spoken and written the same.
She despised superfluity and superabundance; She
Disliked repetitiveness and likewise redundancy.
Each day she recited this rote, self-defeating:
"Once and for all is a phrase worth repeating,"
Which sums up our ditty and wraps up our rhyme.
For your homework now, read it through twice, one more time.
Friday, January 3, 2020
HUNGRY THING now available for sale online!
Since where our yard ends, wilds abound,
We thought it fine to let our hound
Roam as he liked. No neighbors could complain.
Each night, he'd bark and bay and snort
At woodland critters, just for sport,
Then bring home bones of every sort.
You know how that is.
Then one night—silence. All in vain
We searched until the trail went cold.
Our worries lingered unconsoled.
What if he'd met the thing that gobbled Gladys?
Over and above the 126 poem and story acceptances I had in 2019, I am probably proudest of this self-published fantasy story, told in five poems and illustrated by the talented Romanian surrealist, Norbert Somosi. It was published as a book shortly before Christmas. Moments ago, as I write this, a much-admired writer-friend of mine and the first person to buy the book sent me this message:
"I finished reading Hungry Thing and loved every bit of it. I mean really loved it."
Friday, October 25, 2019
Back Up
The source of doctor-patient friction
Was the former’s grim prediction
Of the latter’s health decline
Resulting from his crooked spine.
"I’m confident,” the doctor said,
“That by tomorrow, you’ll be dead.”
Quasimodo swallowed spit.
(His back was up an extra bit).
“When the bell tolls in the gloom,”
The hunchback growled, "...ask not for whom,
“But if I ring it, as expected,”
“And then, thank God you stand corrected!”
Was the former’s grim prediction
Of the latter’s health decline
Resulting from his crooked spine.
"I’m confident,” the doctor said,
“That by tomorrow, you’ll be dead.”
Quasimodo swallowed spit.
(His back was up an extra bit).
“When the bell tolls in the gloom,”
The hunchback growled, "...ask not for whom,
“But if I ring it, as expected,”
“And then, thank God you stand corrected!”
A poem incorporating 5 random words: bit, confident, decline, friction, stand
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