We the People

img_7699Here’s a link to my latest work at http://www.theprose.com. I’ve been super sick lately. Sorry it’s been a while. I’m working on a poetry compilation right now, so this post will have to be short and sweet. I’ll be back with more poetic adventures next week. Happy writing!

https://theprose.com/post/137774/we-the-people

#mustread #poetry

James Matthew Byers resides in Wellington, Alabama with his wife, kids, a dog named after an elf, and two tortoises. He has been published in poetry journals and through Jacksonville State University in Jacksonville, AL, where he received his Master’s in 2010. His epic poem, Beowulf: The Midgard Epic, is out now from Stitched Smile Publications, LLC in both Kindle and special edition paperback. James designed and illustrated the cover and interior art for his debut novel at SSP, where he works as an in house illustrator. He also has a short story featured in their latest release, Unleashed: Monsters Vs. Zombies. James has recently won three Prose Challenges at http://www.theprose.com. His poems, “More Gravy,” “The Raven Redux,” and “Nativity Nuance” all took first place. His poem, “The Dinner Fly,” will be published in “Weirdbook Magazine” #35. He continues to write prolifically, supporting anyone who wishes to place their hammering fingers to the keyboard anvil, becoming a polished wordsmith in the process.

Find James Matthew Byers at:
Twitter: http://www.Twitter.com/MattByers40
Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/Mattbyers40/
Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JamesMatthewByers
Wordpress: https://jamesmatthewbyers.wordpress.com
Prose: https://theprose.com/JamesMByers

Propagation

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This week’s poetry blog is another short and sweet edition. I’m sharing my latest entry in theprose.com’s #ProseChallenge. This week we were tasked with the duty of reworking the story of creation. I love mythology. In Jewish legends, Lilith happened to be Adam’s first wife. I decided to roll with this concept, offering a unique twist on Genesis. The poem’s title is “Propagation.” I stuck to one of my favorite rhyming formats- the 8 syllable/6 syllable structure. I’m a sucker for iambic tetrameter, and though I usually stay the course in one style, this format seems to work well for story telling. It combines a line in iambic tetrameter followed by a line in iambic trimeter. Sometimes I have the alternating lines of tetrameter rhyme. In this case, I opted to only rhyme the end words of the trimeter lines. I hope you enjoy! It’s time to #getlit! #itslit #poetey #fantasy #mythology

https://theprose.com/post/133297/propagation

James Matthew Byers resides in Wellington, Alabama with his wife, kids, a dog named after an elf, and two tortoises. He has been published in poetry journals and through Jacksonville State University in Jacksonville, AL, where he received his Master’s in 2010. His epic poem, Beowulf: The Midgard Epic, is out now from Stitched Smile Publications, LLC in both Kindle and special edition paperback. James designed and illustrated the cover and interior art for his debut novel at SSP, where he works as an in house illustrator. He also has a short story featured in their latest release, Unleashed: Monsters Vs. Zombies. James has recently won three Prose Challenges at http://www.theprose.com. His poems, “More Gravy,” “The Raven Redux,” and “Nativity Nuance” all took first place. His poem, “The Dinner Fly,” will be published in “Weirdbook Magazine” #35. He continues to write prolifically, supporting anyone who wishes to place their hammering fingers to the keyboard anvil, becoming a polished wordsmith in the process.

Find James Matthew Byers at:
Twitter: http://www.Twitter.com/MattByers40
Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/Mattbyers40/
Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JamesMatthewByers
Wordpress: https://jamesmatthewbyers.wordpress.com
Prose: https://theprose.com/JamesMByers

Sweet Revenge

Unfortunately, Beowulf: The Midgard Horrors will have to wait one more week. We all have the flu in the Byers household. Here’s a little revenge piece to end your Saturday with …

Soumya painted on the bed.
The thousandth time her canvas, red,
Exploded in the splotchy scene-
A dying man bereft a spleen.
Eternity, her lot it seemed,
Ascended past the life she dreamed
And when a knife drew drops of blood,
The echoes washed her as a flood-
Soumya, now a hell spawned leech
Embracing powers in her reach,
Decided prisons of the mind
Elicited her only bind.
A succubus now summed the length
Of who she was; her inner strength
For tasty vengeance had a price-
A serial in murder’s vice,
And when the Lord of Hell took note,
It’s wasn’t long before the tote
And totem of her fancied style
Became his glowing, wicked smile.
“Soumya,” Lucifer would say,
“Now run along! Those boys you slay
Are quite delightful in my fold.
Your methods, well, are bloody gold!”
And who was she to turn this down?
Revenge, avenge, it was her crown!
“The devil’s due,” she often said
And bottled blood; she loved to shred
The entrails of some hapless fool,
And sometimes she would even drool.
Enamored with a life of lust
At times could be a bumming bust,
A demon hidden underneath
The outward flesh; her garland wreath
For luring mortals in the trap
Until fatigued, they took a nap.
Unmitigated horror’s cape
Surrounded as she bore the shape
Of who she was inside the skin.
She knew the devil wore a grin
For Lucifer, above them all,
Expected death to be a ball.
The wanton wreckage she would leave
Suppressed the notion some would grieve.
Or maybe not; most been were gags-
Cremated ash; assorted bags
Atop her head, a sweet disguise.
No graves to mourn their hollow eyes.
The lipstick shades around her mouth
Bespoke of somewhere deeper south.
This time, however, feeling guilt,
She wore it like her mother’s quilt-
The one she used to use at night
Before her rape and loss of sight-
The way a mortal values life.
The only thing she loved- her knife-
Invited freedom from the pain.
Unfortunate, for Hell’s domain
Explicitly endured the plot-
A torture field; a lake so hot
The demons even felt it’s heat.
No, there was nothing safe or sweet
And as Soumya entered through
The gates, she longed for life’s renew.
Surprised, she found a rose of black.
Accepting it, she saw a stack
Of petals urging her to move.
The sadness losing in a groove
Rekindled something she forgot-
The pang of joy; the tummy knot.
And as she went into a flame,
Her parting lips released a name:
“So, Lucifer, what have you done?”
The devil smirked, “Let’s have some fun!”
Soumya, startled, took a chance-
Enveloped in his horned romance.
However, what he didn’t know-
The succubus had seeds to grow
And as she used a special blade,
She stole his life; his body flayed.
“Now who’s the Lord of Hell, you pig!
It’s just another grave to dig.
No biggie; nah, I’ll toss you in
And gorge myself on every sin.
You see, those men who took my youth
Devised their plans from you; my proof
A simple visit to the lake-
A soul in torment, no mistake,
Becomes an open book, you see.
So all of Hell belongs to me.”
And as she sucked him, munching bone,
She sat atop his gleaming throne.

James Matthew Byers resides in Wellington, Alabama with his wife, kids, a dog named after an elf, and two tortoises. He has been published in poetry journals and through Jacksonville State University in Jacksonville, AL, where he received his Master’s in 2010. His epic poem, Beowulf: The Midgard Epic, is out now from Stitched Smile Publications, LLC in both Kindle and special edition paperback. James designed and illustrated the cover and interior art for his debut novel at SSP, where he works as an in house illustrator. He also has a short story featured in their latest release, Unleashed: Monsters Vs. Zombies. James has recently won three Prose Challenges at http://www.theprose.com. His poems, “More Gravy,” “The Raven Redux,” and “Nativity Nuance” all took first place. His poem, “The Dinner Fly,” will be published in “Weirdbook Magazine” #35. He continues to write prolifically, supporting anyone who wishes to place their hammering fingers to the keyboard anvil, becoming a polished wordsmith in the process.

Find James Matthew Byers at:
Twitter: http://www.Twitter.com/MattByers40
Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/Mattbyers40/
Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JamesMatthewByers
Wordpress: https://jamesmatthewbyers.wordpress.com
Prose: https://theprose.com/JamesMByersimg_7567

Dead Fish

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I’m still working on Beowulf: The Midgard Horrors. I should have something fun and deeply engaging for next Saturday’s post. In the mean time, here’s an abstract poem dealing with the nature of vampiric sensibility. I broke from my traditional poetry style and penned this one free style. It’s time to get your flash on!
Dead fish
Dividing thunder in two
My heart
Peels the layers of the cloud,
Fish dead
Filling red cups full,
Dark ambrosia
Drunk by eager lips
Drained down his throat
Severs tonsils bled dry,
Bold sacs of
Pus and mucus dripping
Over cast
Sickness sickens every cell,
Gone
From the trapdoor flooding me
Cold.
Well, better
When the birds pluck my tongue
To feed their
Chicks caught taught in nesting
Mothers angered
By the willow tree,
I stand, I stand
A fallen soldier
Peeling layers off my soul
My heart
Dividing thunder in two
Dead fish
James Matthew Byers resides in Wellington, Alabama with his wife, kids, a dog named after an elf, and two tortoises. He has been published in poetry journals and through Jacksonville State University in Jacksonville, AL, where he received his Master’s in 2010. His epic poem, Beowulf: The Midgard Epic, is out now from Stitched Smile Publications, LLC in both Kindle and special edition paperback. James designed and illustrated the cover and interior art for his debut novel at SSP, where he works as an in house illustrator. He also has a short story featured in their latest release, Unleashed: Monsters Vs. Zombies. James has recently won three Prose Challenges at http://www.theprose.com. His poems, “More Gravy,” “The Raven Redux,” and “Nativity Nuance” all took first place. His poem, “The Dinner Fly,” will be published in “Weirdbook Magazine” #35. He continues to write prolifically, supporting anyone who wishes to place their hammering fingers to the keyboard anvil, becoming a polished wordsmith in the process.
Find James Matthew Byers at:
Twitter: http://www.Twitter.com/MattByers40
Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/Mattbyers40/
Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JamesMatthewByers
Wordpress: https://jamesmatthewbyers.wordpress.com
Prose: https://theprose.com/JamesMByers

The Mirror

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While I’m sifting through the plot and direction of Beowulf: The Midgard Horrors, I appreciate your patience. Here’s a piece for reflection … #FlashFictionSaturday

The Mirror

The mirror hung upon the wall,
A symbol in a darkened hall.
The path on which the living stall;
A madness lurking came to call …

No person knew from whence it came,
Or who had placed its wicked frame
Upon the space, no more the same,
As evil soon became its name.

A woman of an elder sort
Refused to leave her haven’s port,
Her roof beholding horror’s sport;
The mirror and its queer retort.

Her house was once a cheery home
Where merriment agreed to roam
But days as those had come and gone
And sullen silence summed the tone.

The frightened neighbors couldn’t see
The house was plain as plain could be.
Of wood and brick and cobbled plea;
They harbored vile insanity.

The ones who heard the story told,
The residents whose aim to scold,
Examined, coming to behold …
But their reflections shivered, cold.

The woman tried to usher out
The ones who came in wearing doubts
Continuing to plague and clout
Her manor with their frightened shouts.

Intent to hide and to protect
The mirror’s power, so abject,
The woman held out in respect,
Despite of what it would reflect.

She never tried to move it, nor
Allowed those passing through her door
To touch it; only to explore
The image seen, and nothing more.

The more the mirror came to show,
The more she felt the evil grow
Until at last the falling snow
Reflected through the window’s glow.

And though the knowledge caused her pain,
The woman proved she would abstain
From letting go for freedom’s gain,
And left the mirror to remain.

The residents from the poor to rich
Decided she must be a witch.
The rumors dug a sordid ditch,
Encasing truth, a pass to pitch.

A rally and a feuding horde
Became what rumors could afford.
But they relinquished flame and sword
And opted faith within their Lord …

They called the vicar down the way,
A man of pride intent to fray
The woman, putting on display
Her sins, his means to make her pay.

He reached her home and entered in,
An exorcism to begin
For what he thought must dwell within.
He chided her and named her sin.

The woman shifted, white and chalked,
As down the hall the vicar walked.
He didn’t listen as she talked.
Instead, the mirror’s face he stalked.

At last she’d taken way too much …
She cried aloud, “You mustn’t touch!”
But egotism’s ardent crutch
Ignored her and he did as such …

Religiously in his romance
With tempting fate and circumstance
He held aloft his sudden chance
To catch his image in a glance.

Because his hands began to shake,
The mirror dropped, but didn’t break,
The vicar made a grave mistake
And slammed his foot in anger’s wake.

The mirror’s glass flung all around,
Releasing evil in a bound.
The vicar screamed a horrid sound
And dropped before her to the ground.

The woman, seeing pride repressed,
Observed the man who’d been obsessed.
The vicar madly there confessed:
“Be gone from me! I am possessed!”

He jumped and ran out in the night,
A soul depraved and full of fright.
His actions had been done in spite,
And wrong surpassed his view of right.

A burden lifted like a veil.
The story that she came to tell
Is known to all; to all quite well:
The way she seemed to conquer Hell …

Her home, in warmth, became endowed
And welcomed freedom from its shroud.
The darkness parted like a cloud
Allowing what was not allowed.

There are two sides to every soul.
The mirror placed it in control
By making half of every whole
Of he or she whose life it stole …

The truth, too much for some to bear,
Diminished them with just a stare.
At last released into the air,
The daemon crept up slowly there.

The woman’s features, frail and thin,
Contorted with the monster’s grin.
And coming thus to dwell again,
The two of them embraced her sin.

No longer trapped behind the glass,
The woman’s warning came to pass.
And now the daemon would surpass
The others in the witch’s class …

“Beware this wisdom shining clearer.”
Prays the woman that you hear her.
“Darkness might be coming nearer
Next time you look in the mirror.”

James Matthew Byers resides in Wellington, Alabama with his wife, kids, a dog named after an elf, and two tortoises. He has been published in poetry journals and through Jacksonville State University in Jacksonville, AL, where he received his Master’s in 2010. His epic poem, Beowulf: The Midgard Epic, is out now from Stitched Smile Publications, LLC in both Kindle and special edition paperback. James designed and illustrated the cover and interior art for his debut novel at SSP, where he works as an in house illustrator. He also has a short story featured in their upcoming release, Unleashed: Monsters Vs. Zombies. James has recently won two Prose Challenges at http://www.theprose.com. His poems, “More Gravy” and “The Raven Redux,” both took first place. He continues to write prolifically, supporting anyone who wishes to place their hammering fingers to the keyboard anvil, becoming a polished wordsmith in the process.

Find James Matthew Byers at:
Twitter: http://www.Twitter.com/MattByers40
Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/Mattbyers40/
Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JamesMatthewByers
Wordpress: https://jamesmatthewbyers.wordpress.com
Prose: https://theprose.com/JamesMByers