When things that go bump in the night…

“For this week’s

Totally Optional

prompt, write a poem in which something or things represents some other thing or things. You could use an object to symbolize an idea. Or a taste to represent a feeling. Or a color to stand in for an animal.

You can let the poem make clear what’s being represented. Or not. Invite your readers to use their imaginations.”

“My shoulder hurts”

but I keep this cudgel handy, it’s changed

through the years,

the cudgel… at first

when young, it was

a mere

twig

a sprig, a prig I was, but

so what… because by

teenage angst it was

a stick, a brick, a

prick I was, but

who cares… by early

adulthood it was a

a plank, a prank,

swank I was, but

big deal… I was on top

and thanks to my

foresight

wisdom

all around superiority, I had

the biggest set of wood by

the time I was middle-aged, no

longer small, my mighty

cudgel smote all

who defied

and

cried

and gave

lame excuses

for

performance as

I beat them

down with

my mighty

cudgel

I sleep well at night

with it

on my shoulder but

get real,

looking

in the mirror

is so overrated

me and my

ego

do just

fine…

when things go bump in the night