This was written off of a prompt on Scott Woods’ live journal – write a poem using the words “piecemeal”, “gallery”, “submission”, and “belt”. Enjoy.

-Nicole
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The young orphaned boy grew into a man
forever in submission to sorrow and a
bright burning anger. His servitude was
a piecemeal development over time,
it growing as he grew into a man.
Soon, he built himself, in muscle and mind,
into an avenger, a quick witted
night soldier who could cleave the average
criminal asunder with machete
sharp precision. In time, a gallery
of gadgets served the Dark Knight, as well as
a customized creation of a car,
his second skin of a suit, and, always
around his waist, his utility belt.
Yet, still underneath this dark armor lies
a pure heart, broken from the loss long
ago of his parents, killed by a thief,
common and heartless. He is always in
the shadows of the city – every night
Bruce Wayne dies, and Batman emerges
in his place like a winged, black, cold Phoenix.

Written 6/22/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Stumble It!

This is a poem for Poefusion’s Friday Five. This week’s words were: dog trainer, pie, beach, whistle, and bills. Enjoy.

-Nicole
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This beach is almost vacant after dark;
the juncture of pale peach sand and silent,
whispering ocean waves rests underneath
a sunset rainbow strata of coral,
turquoise, cornflower, and midnight black.
The ocean is a mirror, reflecting
the sky strata in reverse. The children,
who during daytime play sit and make sand
castles and mud pies in scattered bead-string
groups, are gone; the dog trainer in beach bum
uniform whose charges come when he calls
them with a single, clean whistle, has gone
home; and the eclectic collection of
beachgoers has receded like the ocean
waves to their night time destinations. Now,
only a few seagulls remain, flying
short arrow paths with their bills jutting out
as if to slice the evening sky, and we,
we wait for the promise of impending
moonlight so that we can walk, hand in hand,
alone and undisturbed with only the
moon, the stars, and the ocean present as
silent witnesses to our night time stroll.

Written 6/19/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Stumble It!

This is another poem for Writer’s Island – I decided to take their other two prompts of transformation and alter ego and write one poem for both of them. Enjoy.

-Nicole
————————————————
He can never know. He can never know
the face behind this mask I wear; I’ve made
my choice and with it I must now live. I
can never give away that I was once
his idol, his Superman, the same who
walked out of our house in shame as Pops yelled
after me, telling me never to dare
darken home’s door again. I can only
hover as a distant friend to save him
from impetuous peril – his temper
is not unlike mine. I find that this mask,
this suit, and this car all give me behind
mystery a license to still be his
older brother, for he can never know.
So let them all see this other self, this
“Racer X” as they call me, into which
I transform before every race – for
as far as it concerns them, Rex Racer
is forever dead. Speed must never know;
I trust that you will keep my secret.

Written 6/16/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.


Stumble It!