My Monday challenge is to write a story/poem of any length, with the following words in it somewhere:
Glasses, blaze and madness
Last week’s writing prompt was to write a poem or story on the following theme:
EDC Writing sent in this teaser:
For doing nothing
Best crack on
With Esther’s challenge!
Before completing his ‘proper’ piece. It’s certainly a powerful one:
Key in the door
A little stiff
She keeps telling him
Odd smell greets
Wet plaster … wood dust
Others homes not his
Walls overfilled holes
Tiles broken rough edges
Door an inch too short
Frame botched distorted
Windows condensation soaked
Heating gone array
Message painted on a wall
Your home as you left mine!
Rajiv Chopra‘s Mary Jane series is getting better and better. Sit back and enjoy:
He would never reveal the contents of the box. Well, not now anyway. The contents had shaken him up a bit too much. He could not believe what had happened, and he sat there outside for a long time, confused thoughts coursing through his brain.
Truth be told, his luck had been a little hard on him lately, as his frayed clothes revealed. He had struck upon this plan of having Harley Quinn planted in The Bat’s bed, so that he could make him an unwitting agent of his schemes. The Joker suddenly realized that he had not seen one penny in the last months. Had he been blind? He had been so much in love with his own greedy little idea that he did not realize that he had been played all this time.
He gnashed his teeth. Hell hath no fury like a Joker scorned, he muttered. Eyes wild, he tore at his hair, and danced and stamped his feet in anger and petulance. He would be avenged. He, The Joker, would rise again. The world would, once again, play His Games, and his glory would be unrivalled. This future moment of triumph would belong to him, and to him alone.
A wild, gleeful look came into his eyes. “Hee! Hee! Hee!” he laughed hysterically to himself. “Yes, I will use those three to my advantage. That arrogant fool of The Spider, and those two nincompoops who are always blathering about Dark Lords. Yes, they shall be my pawns.”
Rubbing his hands, in his dirty, frayed Joker gloves, he reveled in the scheme that was starting to germinate in his twisted mind.
“Revenge shall be mine,” he screamed into the dark night. As he melted away into the darkness, his voice could be heard, chanting this crazy little mongrel rhyme,
Oh Little Batman wants to play With Little Harley, he went astray. But I am The Joker, I am King; My sport is revenge, I shall make them singe.
Oh Pretty Harley tried to cheat with The Bat and Jane – quite the feat! But I am The Joker, revenge is mine; My evil Genius once more shall shine!
Ah that Spider, and those Little Men Shall plot with me, in my old den. For I am The Joker, I will be avenged, The Bat and Harley, will feel my revenge!