For today’s prompt, take the phrase “I’ll Never (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the new poem. Possible titles include: “I’ll Never Write an Excuse Poem,” “I’ll Never Go to Disney World,” “I’ll Never Tell a Lie,” or “I’ll Never Understand People Who Like Rush.”
THE SHORTCUT
by John Yeo
I’ll never take that shortcut again!
The night was late. To stem the worry,
I hurried along the highway.
The moon was full and clear,
Shadows stretched out from Yew trees,
As I climbed over the imposing gates.
An Owl hooted in dismay
Flying through the night searching for prey.
A cat screeched in reply.
A figure stretched out on a bench
Old Nick, who is homeless, lives here.
I picked up my pace as I made my way,
Overgrown stones on aged graves
Loom up in the shadows as I pass.
A flash of white to the right
My imagination runs riot.
Dead flowers in vases on chipped marble.
A movement in the trees to the left,
I hurry along between the graves.
Strange noises from where I tread,
I try to creep, not making a sound
For fear of waking the dead.
My mind mingles with magical thought
I pick up my pace to get through,
I feel unseeing, unseen eyes all around.
A vision crosses my mind as I travel
A lady in red wearing a hood
Sadly standing, seeking solace,
Sobbing bitterly In silent prayer
Before the grave of a child.
I reach the end of the pathway
When I look back, the lady is gone.
I make a vow as I run to my home,
I’ll never take that shortcut again!
Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reserved
by John Yeo
I’ll never take that shortcut again!
The night was late. To stem the worry,
I hurried along the highway.
The moon was full and clear,
Shadows stretched out from Yew trees,
As I climbed over the imposing gates.
An Owl hooted in dismay
Flying through the night searching for prey.
A cat screeched in reply.
A figure stretched out on a bench
Old Nick, who is homeless, lives here.
I picked up my pace as I made my way,
Overgrown stones on aged graves
Loom up in the shadows as I pass.
A flash of white to the right
My imagination runs riot.
Dead flowers in vases on chipped marble.
A movement in the trees to the left,
I hurry along between the graves.
Strange noises from where I tread,
I try to creep, not making a sound
For fear of waking the dead.
My mind mingles with magical thought
I pick up my pace to get through,
I feel unseeing, unseen eyes all around.
A vision crosses my mind as I travel
A lady in red wearing a hood
Sadly standing, seeking solace,
Sobbing bitterly In silent prayer
Before the grave of a child.
I reach the end of the pathway
When I look back, the lady is gone.
I make a vow as I run to my home,
I’ll never take that shortcut again!
Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reserved
Image from Ermilia's blog
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