Bill Kinsella Died Today

by Axel Howerton

 

Bill Kinsella died today

leaving, as he always did,

when he was damned good and ready

It broke my heart a little to hear it

little cracks forming, splitting, glowing red from underneath

at the idea that he chose to leave us behind

Those cracks were already forming

the last time I saw him

tall and thin as ever

paper thin and faded like an old page

more crooked and folded and dog-eared than I remembered

Bill told me he was tired

worn through

and I nodded, as one does

as if I knew the weight of the years he’d lived

Bill taught me

A long time ago

about the Music of Words

about the Magic that glows behind Life

and Baseball

and Brautigan

Bill taught me about Love and Loss

about Moonlight

and the hanging curve

and the terrible joy of hitting it square on

Bill wrote stories of regret and redemption

and the writerly things about writers

because that’s what he was

Always

He took me on trips to Frank Pierce, Iowa

and Hobbema and Vegreville

and the weird back rooms of Vancouver

I rode with him across pages

from our own hometown in Alberta

to the jungles of Courteguay

where voodoo chiropractors turn out iron-armed infielders

and Dennys Kelly turned into a wolf

Bill showed me the world

with all of its cracks

and the Magic glowing red underneath

the hot stuff

and the thundering tempo

and the seventh-inning stretch when we all get to look

and feel the heat on our face

Adios, Teach

Enjoy the next game

and save me a seat

  • For Bill 9/17/2016
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Fury Road



On the edge of the precipice
and stared into the desert
Shall all the eyes turn
or watch the world burn?


Inhaled the diesel fuel, the oil;
fire smoked beyond the sands
Shall all the eyes turn
to watch the world burn?


Primal scream shook the land,
madness snaked into the brain
Shall all the eyes turn
and watch the world burn?




© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart

Thief | #NaPoWriMo

Embed from Getty Images

The moment our lips touched
I felt ancient drumbeats beat painfully at my chest
Terrible wild things raced through my blood
I died then your lips pressed mine
I became your creature that night
Death was sweeter than breath
Then you cruelly tore the end away
I was left barely breathing
You brought me back from the edge of this world
Life could not offer me the succour this dying could
I would have gladly died with your lips stealing my breath
Death would have been welcomed
I knew perfection in the instance you stole my breath
It is sweetest to feel the succour of being quenched
It is sweetest when you steal my breath
You opened my eyes and I glimpsed my edge
I knew then I was mortal, nothing more than a pulse
Your breath in my mouth shattered all strength
I felt that violence as your breath warred with mine
Your breath won and I was ready for you to finish me
As I waited for the drumbeats to destroy my chest
The violent music pierced my soul and I knew my end
Then just as the wild things threatened to carry me away
You pulled your mouth away and I could breathe
I never knew kindness could be so cruel and cruel would be my wish
The moment our lips parted
I felt the ancient drumbeats wake my frozen heart
Terrible wild things quickened my pulse into life
I breathed and your warm lips left mine filled with ice
You became my prison that night

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

#CoffinHop – Goddess of War

Raven2

 

Goddess of War

 

Hear her ravens

Scream from silence

The coming of The Morrigan

 

Wing of black

Cry of death

The coming of The Morrigan

 

Horns to war

Hands to prayer

The coming of The Morrigan

 

Sky of rain

Rivers of blood

The coming of The Morrigan

 

Drops of tears

Over battlefields

The coming of The Morrigan



© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart



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CoffinHop

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The Penultimate Annual Horror Event
24th Oct – 31st Oct
60 Horror Authors/Artists/Poets
8 days of Fearsome Fun
8 days of Generous giveaways/sweepstakes/contests
Terrifying tales, Petrifying Poetry, Spine-tingling stories, Freakish Flash Fiction, Heart-Racing Horror…

Join the Hop and support your favourite Horror Authors/Artists/Poets

CAGED

D
E
A
T
H

only in death see
not dead—in words
the only star
prove God’s existence
amused nightmares
those who die

carcass cage
muscles cease
seize freeze wheeze
eyes cry
downward ether lie
cracked blood crater
downward ether lie
eyes cry
seize freeze wheeze
muscles cease
carcass cage

those who die
amused nightmares
prove God’s existence
the only star
not dead—in words
only in death see

E
F
I
L

Wild Born

Copper Moon

Born on the untamed storm, black wind in the blood
Cold eyes of green, with a scream to shatter bone
Awake the dead, raven shadows call the flood

Red moon fears the surge, shrieking her tempest moan
A veiled gaze, darkened haze, in the endless howl
Bring the last, come the heir, to the thorny throne

Soar the bleak hurricane, rip the realm a scowl
Cascade forth the fury, nothing stands the wake
Fall to the oncoming rage, let life befoul

Wide rivers will burn and fair mountains will quake,
each in measured doom, blazing width and the depth
Child of the feral storm, all mercy forsake

Run to the edge, chased by the dark mist of breath
Run in vain, escape shall transpire in death

 

© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart

 

An Echo of Trumpets

Banner

Herald the thunder, ragged
Battle banners, set flying
Like the broken blade, jagged
Remnant in war met dying

Harbinger, bring the sorrow
with ease of grace so willing
to greet fate, on the morrow
the blade to blood, oh, spilling

Roar the tune before us, blaring
Ride for glory, whenever
the call to arms comes bearing
Be it our last endeavour




© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart