Contemporary Cautionary Tale

Road Rage Roger
Roger ranted daily driving to and fro from work,
for all who drove beside him was an “idiot!” or “jerk!”
His blood would boil, teeth would grit, and throttled tight the wheel;
he’d loose his middle digit high, then take off with a squeal.
But one day, while he tore about from lane to sluggish lane,
he tread upon the final nerve that kept another sane.
When Roger heard the heavy-handed horn holler behind,
his finger sprang to action quick on outstretched limb in kind.
He’d teach this jerk a lesson well, and hinder him he did,
until the light before them changed and stopped them with a skid.
In rear view, Roger watched him twitch as silently he’d shout,
then filled with terror once he saw the maniac step out.
With fervent haste the man appeared, gun aimed at Roger’s head;
without a word, the trigger’s pulled, and shoots poor Roger dead.

The Tragic Tale of Timid Toby: Character Profiles

Sooo...I got a bug up my butt and wanted to write a short story...so I am. I'm sure it's rubbish, but I'm having fun with it, so I don't care how bad it is or will be (well, of course I care [anyone who knows me knows I care] but I'm choosing not let it bother me — basically setting myself up for failure, in that I won't be happy with the end result).

Just before I finished writing the first part of the story, I wanted a diversion from writing the story itself, but didn't want to leave it altogether, so I put together a few very short character sketches for each of the main characters, the last of which I've not actually written about yet.


Timid Toby
without a friend
and family far
he lives a life alone
a little boy
forever sad
leaves no part of him prone

for learned he young
and holds today
that people cause you ill
And so he drifts
morning to night
far further from them still

Celestial Samantha
a darling girl
with inky locks
and alabaster tone
sees beauty true
in all she's graced
as though it’s plainly shown

with gift so great
and heart so pure
she lights the darkest soul
yet one shall pass
into her light
and pay a hefty toll

Miss Sweete Intentions
with feather touch
and gentle grin
she molds her pupils fine
with iron fist
and piercing gaze
she makes them toe the line

while best intents
don’t always fruit
and some that do doth rot
fruition comes
first tasting sweet
ends bitterly for naught

Chiding Charlie
his biting words
do pierce and sting
with rancorous reproach
he’s quick to flit
his vile tongue
at those who dare encroach

though treading light
one often draws
the venom from this snake
for savors he
to cause and see
one’s gentle spirit break


Who knows...maybe this is all anybody sees of the story, I haven't decided whether or not this is one of those things I do that's just for me or if I'm willing to share. I suppose only time will tell.