From the Inkwell, From the Vein.....

It's that time of year again.... when everything in the blogosphere goes a bit, well, alphabetical.... 2013 marks year three for this blogger. When I first stumbled across this challenge, I'll admit I had no clue what I was really getting into. I started with no theme, no plan, no direction--- it's a wonder I made it through the month intact. As each letter passed, I found it more and more difficult to come up with the "word of the day".  Year two was MUCH easier-- I had the brilliant "eureka!" moment before the challenge started and decided on a specific theme--- poisons! and poetry! (felt the need to add a poem-a-day as April IS  National Poetry Month)--- could definitely have used a theme my first year. This year will be all things supernatural.... those beings and creatures we all know and love/hate. And, because I'm a glutton for punishment, there'll be a poem added to each post as well. And so, the challenge begins.....

The Heffalump, the Oliphaunt, the Ribbajack, and Jabberwock-- In shadows walking, from dreams come true, through darkness falling, they'll run with you. When daydreams, bleed nightmares, when morning light, is scabbed by night, The beasts arrive, to stir and shake, if your wits survive, and you somehow wake, Don't think them done, though you stand alone, they'll slither and creep, and stomp while you sleep, In shadows walking, from dreams come true, through darkness falling,  they'll run with you, The Heffalump, the Oliphaunt, the Ribbajack, and Jabberwock.                                                                                                  ---e.a.s. demers

On nights when the moon refuses to shine, When hopeful dreams have all drifted away, This is the time when the long shadows come, When the skull-backed spiders are eager to play. It’s the thick, choking darkness that grows them, Their black frames pulled from deep, murky depths, A single white spot to mark their cold flesh, The marred heralds, glowing beacons of death. Venture no closer than a cubit’s length, Steer your path a wide berth from their stance, Lest you catch a glimpse of their spot’s true shape, Image clear at the start of their dance. Listen close as we whisper our warnings, Heed the words we lay bare at your feet. Don’t tread near to catch sight of our skulls, You’ll regret most the moment we meet.                                                                                                          ---e.a.s. demers

Look for him not, expect him not there. He was here yesterday, but, now he's nowhere. Think not it strange, search not where he's been. he's aces at saving,  his own precious skin. He'll come all at once, when your eyes gaze askance, just to prove that he's there, though it'll be your one chance, You'll not find him again, though your mind is held sway, by his dark, wretched memory, he's at once gone-away.                                                                                                     --- e.a.s. demers