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Bhill Oct 2020
jack and the bat went on a hike
they walked and walked till the nuisance spiked
it’s seemed kinda strange to see a bat walking
it doesn't really matter, as they both were just talking
what in the world could they be talking about
I'm sure it doesn't matter, at least I have doubt
as long as they talk, and talk while they walk
and don't cause trouble as everyone else squawks
there is too much squawking, in the steps of today's life
we are all very different, so put away that old knife
jack and the bat exist only in my mind
if you see something here we must be aligned....

Brian Hill- 2020 # 276
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2020

Swathed in blood-wet robes
Bat wings stirs her viper curls
Soul of vengeance burns

New day, new haiku!
Now that I have the Charites and the younger Charites out of the way, I wanted to focus on the Furies, who are among some of my favourite goddesses! The Furies are also known as the Erinnyes, and are known to be the goddesses of vengeance and each of the sisters punished different crimes. It is said that the Furies were born from the blood that was spilt when Kronos castrated his father, Uranus.

Tisiphone [aka Tilphousia] was known to punish criminals who commited homicide, patricide and fratricide. In the first line of the haiku, it is a reference to Virigl's Aeneid, where he described Tisiphone as being "clothed in a blood-wet dress." I changed it from dress to robe because in Ovid's Metamorphoses poem, she wore a red robe with a snake about her waist; which leads into line two. The Erinnyes have been depicited differently over the years but what stuck with me growing up was the image of them being like the gorgon sisters only; with bat like wings and snake-like hair.
And of course, the last line speaks of her role as a goddess of vengence.

Like her sister, she is a woman to be feared. A blood soaked beauty. It is quite fitting for her and her sisters to be servents of Hades and Persephone, punishing those criminals in Tartarus...

Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜
Here's the link for the growing collection:
Be back tomorrow with another one!
Much love,
Lyn 💜
Savio Fonseca Aug 2020
The Dragons took a Bat,
in their Hands and out fell,
the ****** Virus.
I wonder, what would fall out.
If each one of them,
had their......*****
in their Hands.
Sabika Jun 2020
Pigs carry giant whips
and shoot bullets
and spray their spit
at bats.

Bats fly and bump into rats.
Rats claim they are cousins
yet eat some bats and
become poisonous in their speech.
Bats cry out that everyone can have
a slice of the freedom cake
take one piece each.

Rats are hungry
because there's a hole in their tummy
so they tell the pigs to steal the whole cake.
Bats bat their eyelids to the darkness
realizing their alliance
was fake.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
by Michael R. Burch

Vampires are such fragile creatures;
we fear the dark, but the light destroys them . . .
sunlight, or a stake, or a cross—such common things.
Still, late at night, when the bat-like vampire sings,
we heed his voice.

Centuries have taught us:
in shadows danger lurks for those who stray,
and there the vampire bares his yellow fangs
and feels the ancient soul-tormenting pangs.
He has no choice.

We are his prey, plump and fragrant,
and if we pray to avoid him, he prays to find us,
prays to some despotic hooded God
whose benediction is the humid blood
he lusts to taste.

Published by Monumental Moments (Eye Scry Publications), Weirdbook, Gothic Fairy and Raiders’ Digest. Keywords/Tags: vampires, fragile, creatures, stake, cross, dark, darkness, light, bat, bat-like, shadows, fangs, pangs, prey, blood, lust, lusts, red, lips, night, voice, sings, darkness, evil, incarnate, soul, hell, tormented, pale, eyes
K Balachandran Jan 2020
I bat both eyelids.
She attributes motive and winks.
The right moment to think!
K Balachandran Jan 2020
On banana flower's *******
Three avaricious bats suckle.
Above, few still circle.
Poetress2 Apr 2019
It was early in the Morning,
when he strolled through the door;
She hit him with her baseball bat,
and he landed on the floor.
"How dare he do this to me,"
she uttered, 'neath her breath;
"I'll fix his little wagon,
and he'll ne'er do this again."
She stared down at her husband,
whom she could not live with;
Just knowing that he was cheating,
made her troubled heart go limp.
When at last his Funeral ended,
she cried as she walked away;
The guilt that she was feeling,
was more then she could take.
Yet still no one e'er knew,
it was her that welded the bat;
Home was peaceful and quiet,
something she never did have.
Oculi Mar 2019
The sun in the sky of an eternal night
The tractor swings and misses today
The drums are hit every day in anticipation
The butterfly's wings torn off and put on
The daily struggle of a pastor in modernity
Dying to go back to how life used to be

A monolith opened from dying sheep
A droning, long, darkened figure came
He took all the belongings of modern man
And left as quickly as he came, leaving ruination
The ruination spread through the world
And as the figure left, all our souls did, too

The pastor had prepared for this day, though
As all his sheep gathered into a herd...
He saw what had to be done and took off
The sheep, cried after their owner that night
But the man could not be swayed anymore
He took his gun and his scythe and his armor

In a world ever so confused, the pastor stuck out
Looking for something that wasn't there.
He saw gates of elected darkness and phantoms
He saw drops of rain be every color and none
He saw man become animal and **** one another
He saw buildings morph into pure liquid LSD

The bat wings on his back grew bigger evermore
And his eyes kept getting darker and darker
His head kept singing in liturgical Latin
And the grasp on his scythe kept getting weaker
But that was all okay, because he still had a goal
And once he found the Gate, it would all be fine

It went like that for what seemed like years
But in reality it was just a few days, maybe a week
His feet got more and more tired by the day
And by the fourth day, all he saw was the night
The prophet's words rang in his head forevermore
"Where is the night? Where is the Gate? Where, oh?"

By the time he'd reached the other world, too late
He had become a creature of darkness, himself
Ruining the world in his path step by step, he did
And when he stopped to take a breath, he felt weak
Little did he know, he was in fact stopping forever
And that he wouldn't find the man, but vica versa

On the 21st of June, an bystander found an old man
Breathing heavily, desperately looking all over
The old man seemed like he was 200 or more
His speech was slurred and hard to understand
The bystander took him to a hospital, where he spoke
Out loud, he said "I forgive you, brother."
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