It's been awhile since I posted because I have not done any art lately. I've been in the writing mood and I've been writing a lot of poetry. I've tried out some poems in a new style. I've got a few things I have not posted on my poetry site. So I thought I'd post one here. If you are reading this and you are not from the South, a "mess" is the same thing as a batch.
The Fetish
By Motherofthesky
Granny sent him down the road
To the tater shed to fetch a mess of taters.
Night came and went but he never came home;
And supper was ruined.
When he’d been missing long enough
For the law to give a big rat’s ass
The sheriff and his deputies went looking for him.
They looked for nine days running; combing the county and the countryside.
But all they found was his rabbit’s foot
Dyed green, like the ones they throw at the St. Paddy’s day parade.
It had some blood on it, and the deputies say it was human.
He had carried the fetish with him on his key chain for good luck.
It appears that the luck ran out.
~Wings of Iron~
