213. A black pudding fable. (05 Dec. 17).

Time for another visit with another piece from the darker side of things. Might see if I can find something with a bit more of a smile to it next time.

One morning, on the way to the shower getting ready for work, I was actively wondering how the next flight of fancy was going to begin. Mentally letting things go the way they wanted, the phrase “In the common vernacular,” appeared in a really strong voice. Barely two steps later the question of what rhymes with vernacular was answered with the single word, or name, “Dracula.” This alone became the second line of whatever it was that had just started. Literally, hot on his heels came the third line and the rest of the first verse followed quite fluidly. I just had to keep a hold on it as I walked to work before being able to capture it on paper. Verse two wasn’t shy but it took a couple days of tweaking and pairing down. This poem, too late for Halloween and too black for Christmas, was swift, but fun writing.


213. A black pudding fable. (05 Dec. 17).


In the common vernacular,


Was an absolute horror of a man,

A travesty,

0f kind humanity,

But the perfect example of his class,

He still liked to dress,

To dine at night,

As peers spied upon him,

With envy and lust,

For without the need,

For knife or fork,

With glistening fangs alone,

He would quite literally,

Suck the life,

Out of the poor.


While in the pubs and churches,

Of the common folk,

Up and down the land,

Angry pitchforks shaking,

With righteous human tears,

Held up the Devil’s acolytes,

And denounced,

Such aristocratic appetites,

While in ever quieter shops,

“By appointment” Master butchers stood,

And licked their chops,

Pondering exactly what,

Or who, they’d give to know,

The fabled secrets,

Of his titled families,

Legendary, black pudding recipes.


Jim Laing.


About Jim Laing

The Buddha said there were four kinds of people. Those who run from dark to dark, those who run from light to dark, those who run from dark to light and those who run from light to light. From a life going from dark to dark to having a few years running from dark to light, with scuffed hands and knees from sometimes falling, I may be getting the hang of it now. How it began is not now how it is, I need a quiet space, After the noise of the day, So I take sanctuary in the creativity, And my soul feeds, On sometimes dark, Sometimes light fantasy, And I dare like many to work, But stay up off my knees, To dream, perchance to suffer, But always still to dream. Here are things mostly lyrical and poetic, with nonsense sometimes, reviews and personal musings. The coffees hot and always black. The words not necessarily so.
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