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Verbose

I will light you on fire,
Fired out of a cannon,
Canonized as the  saint of delight.

The light will find you,
Sitting on a chair,
Keeping up the fight.

Chair the meeting of minds,
minding their might,
With words out of a speaker.

Speaker of the council
Happy Birthdaying us all with a song.
Sing along with her.

I bottle up my feelings
Into this bottle 
I throw in the ocean.

Spoon fed emotions
Can’t sleep spooning you
While inside this motion.

It’ll all come crashing down
I’ll sit on the ground
Wondering was this noun or just verbose.

This is for dVerse prompt: it is time to do something that we haven’t prompted in a long time and that is the concept of verbification. … So bring out the dictionary and find nouns or adjectives that may turn your poem from descriptive to action-packed. To transform a noun or adjective to a verb you may look at the ending.

I hope you enjoy! 😊

Nothing That Serious

The worshiper and the whore
Both on their knees
Calling out loudly to God
Looking to get what they want.

Politician and poet
Using words to inspire
Emotional manipulators
Just looking for a hand.

You and I
Just two friends in love
Nothing that serious
Just don’t tell our spouses.

This is for a dVerse prompt: For today’s poetics prompt, I would like you to write an irreverent verse. It could be about something that cannot bear to be laughed at like god, nation, leaders, family or traditions. Keep it irreverent but do not make it disrespectful. I hope you enjoy! 😊

Moonlight Trick or Treat

The harvest moon.

I remember when we would actually harvest the crops under the moon’s light. Tradition, luck, blessing? Who knows why we did it? We never knew nor cared. It was to be done and done, it was.

Then the hunter’s moon.

The first full moon after the harvest moon. When hunting would be done to stock up for winter. I’d watch the hunters go out and come back with their kills. Sustenance for the long, cold nights and days.

Then I became a hunter under the moon.

Moonlight, night time. Hunting the unwary, the foolhardy, the just plain stupid. It was my sustenance. They were my harvest and prey. It was a simpler time then.

Now I go out to harvest candy.

I walk with my grandchildren dressed in black with fake fangs and a red cape. Gatherer of refined sugar and corn syrup. Squeals of children replace screams of terror, murmured ‘thank you’s instead of whimpers of mercy. Everything changes.

But the moon. The moon stays the same. Harvest and Hunter.

Dark souls in moonlight
Hungered for blood to sustain
Now go trick or treat

This was for a dVerse prompt: Whether it’s the light of October’s Full Moon, or the fright of Halloween, let’s testify! Write a haibun that alludes to either the Hunter’s Moon or Halloween. I hope you enjoy! 😊

Halloween Reads 2026!

Looking for something a little spooky, or dark, or scary? Check out the stories and poems below. Ghoulishly good!

Stories

See descriptions for each story below.

Poems

Picking Up A Hooker – Micro fiction about what happens when a man picks up a hooker and things go wrong. Very wrong. **NSFW explicit material**

A Goth Mermaid Tale – A prose poem about a man’s attempt to woo a goth mermaid. Does he win her over or does he just go overboard? Rated R

Dead Two – A loner girl is encouraged to talk to a guy who’s interested in her. They may have more in common than she believes. **SFW**

Witches’ Brew – Guy stumbles upon 2 witches having sex in the woods. **NSFW explicit material. Offsite**

Bubble Juice at the Cemetery – A micro fiction about a couple disturbing the residents of the cemetery with their picnic.

I Hear Her Screams

**Edvard Munch, *The Dead Mother* (1899)**

I hear her screams.
 Oh so loud.
They haunt my dreams.
 As a child
I never knew her;
 I was too young.
I never knew her,
 Only her bloated tongue.

She died before I reached the age of nine
  Of an illness borne.
An illness that said would soon be mine.
  Such was their reasoning for their scorn.
Yet I did not die as they had forseen,
  Much to their chagrin.
Not even a touch of green or ruptured spleen;
  Immune was I to their mortal sin.

Now I sit alone within my house,
   Inherited from my kin.
Alone am I without a spouse
   Or child that might have been.
I watched them all fade away,
   Dropping one by one.
Happened in a variety of ways
   The way it was done.

A poisoning here, a duel there,
    From one hired on the street,
One hung herself from the stair,
    The other choked upon a treat.
All tragic for sure,
     Accidents and mishaps so befallen,
           For what they did to my mother and her screams.

This is for a dVerse prompt: Choose any of the three paintings and compose a poem of 31 lines or fewer. I chose the picture above as the inspiration for my poem. I hope you enjoy.

Screening Her Calls

Screen pass,
Tackled at the line.
I should have seen the blitz coming.
She roughed the passer 
Before I even got to say hi.

Three point line.
Blocked again.
No foul?
C’mon ref,
Can’t you see that’s an illegal screen?
Why didn’t she call?

This is for a dVerse prompt: Pen us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title,) including some form of the word screen. I hope you enjoy! 😊

The Snows of Winter

1.
Summer has said goodbye,
Long gone sunshine,
My eyes squint, leaves fall
Until my love awakes.

2.
Candy sweets, large or small,
I like them big;
Full size, big beauties they’re called.
Dirty, messy mouth. I like it. 

3.
Mask, worn to hide,
Ring the bell, wait for the prize.
Little goblins, rugrats, ankle biters, all of them
Pose for a picture.

4. 
Will the snow come early?
I wear my new shoes.
Getting dirty? So am I!
Come on! The rain won’t melt you.

5. 
I long for the days of fall,
To not trip me with masks of monsters.
Big breasts, big heart, big hips: my love
Left with the snows of winter and froze my heart.

This is for a dVerse prompt: To write a Cadralor.

The Cadralor is a hybridised name from the 2 inventors, Lori Howe and Christopher Cadra

Poetry Style

5 numbered stanzas
choose 3-10 lines per stanza (but keep same chosen stanza length throughout)
each stanza stands alone as an imagist poem (just the obliquest of connections)
5th stanza pulls the 4 unrelated stanzas together into a poem of love, of yearning
rhymes and syllabic meter are NOT wanted

The Moon in Her Eyes

Black hair and red lips
Walks through the crowd
Through shadows she slips
Electric demon or Wiccan automaton
She carries the moon in her eyes

Curves on a dangerous road
Drives the men crazy
Turn you from a man to a toad
Can’t let her push me over a cliff
She carries the moon in her eyes

I don’t dare to approach 
Yet dare not let her escape
My behaviour always above reproach
Her moves make the devil blush
She carries the moon in her eyes

I follow behind 
I love to watch the way she leaves
My heart, my head, my courage I’ve got to find
To stop this witchy woman of mine
She carries the moon in her eyes

This is for a dVerse prompt: Choose ONE song of your liking from the playlist and write a poem. Let the music determine the mood, imagery, setting, and voice. The poem doesn’t have to retell the songs; instead, use each one as a doorway into a different Halloween world.

I chose – Witchy Woman” — Eagles
Prompt: Describe a mysterious woman entirely through the eyes of someone who cannot decide whether she is dangerous or irresistible.

I hope you enjoy! 😊

Bubble Juice at the Cemetery

The dead were settling in under their mud roof and something was shuffling overhead. Everyone knows not to disturb their sleep. Everyone except …

“OMG Brad. A date night at the cemetery is like such a great idea!”

“Thanks Sally. I brought a picnic basket!”

“Charcoalery, charcelery, charcoocher, meat and cheese. Yum!”

“And don’t forget the bubbly!” said Brad.

“Champa… Bubble juice! You know what that does to me,” giggled Sally.

“I know,” leered Brad, “I know.”

“Bad boy!” she giggled again.

“Fuuuuuugghhh,” moaned Edward.

Mrs. Edward gave him a look.

“Edward Edward III if you don’t go up there and tell those two to knock it off I will. And God help them and you.”

“Fuuuuuggghhh,” moaned Edward.

Mrs. Edward moved towards the door.

“I’m going, I’m going. Sheesh woman you sure are bossy undead,” said Edward as he shuffled to the door.

This is for a dVerse prompt: Write a piece of flash fiction of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line in the order in which it has been given. You may add or change punctuation, but you may not add words in between the given ones.

The given line:

“the dead were settling in under their mud roof
and something was shuffling overhead”

I hope you enjoy! 😊

Obsessive Observation

They say obsession is evil
Than evil am I
So obsessed am I with you

I watch your going
Ins and outs
While in shadow
Even in the sun at noon

I’m obsessed with you

I know your patterns
More than you know yourself
The little delights you take before work
A sip of coffee, a slip of fingers
Inside yourself

I watch it all
Most often in the confines of my own home
But sometimes I sit
Outside yours and breathe heavily with you

Woman laying on a bed semi-clothed with open books around her

A Taste of Stew Erotic Stories Collection

Do you like stories you can see yourself in? Fantasies but relatable and realistic?

A selection of stories ranging from a heated argument between a mom and dad that turns steamy to an interplanetary smuggler getting frisky behind a hotel desk. Fun, well written stories with high spice.

7 well written stories with a wide variety to enjoy with hot spice. Pick up A Taste of Stew Erotic Stories Collection!