# March Challenge: "Poisoned Chalice"



## Chesters Daughter (Mar 1, 2016)

The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by Phil Istine is: *Poisoned Chalice*

You are free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish, though of course, site rules apply. If you are unsure of the challenge rules please read the 'stickies' at the top of the board.

We are continuing to allow optional anonymity this month. You may post your entries yourself, or, if you'd like to remain anonymous, you may PM your entry to me, *Chester's Daughter.* If you are posting anonymously, please indicate in your PM which board, public or workshop, you desire your entry posted on.

Kindly make sure your entry is properly formatted and error free before you submit. You have a *ten minute grace period* to edit your piece, but anything edited after that will likely see your entry excluded from the Challenge. 

As usual, if you'd wish to protect your first rights, post your entry in the *workshop thread,* *and post a link to it in this thread. Failure to do so runs the risk of your entry being disqualified.

The inclusion of explanatory text or links of any kind within an entrant's Challenge post is prohibited and shall be promptly removed by staff.

Do not post comments in this thread. Any discussion related to the challenge can take place in the Bards' Bistro.

Now that the 'like" function is again blessing us with its presence, we respectfully request that you refrain from using it until this thread has been closed and the poll has been opened.

This challenge will close on the 15th of March at 7pm EST.*


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## Schrody (Mar 1, 2016)

_Velvet Curtains_

From your lips I
Drank the rivers of blood
Intoxicating
Sweet as Life
Ecstatic Universe

Red wine
Dark room
Violent Nature
Tears of Gods
Scattered bones at the Holy Mountain

Fear in your eyes
Scared to die
Come with me, Dear
Let's dance till the Dawn
Your aurora is fading
As I take the Poisoned Chalice
From your dead hands


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## PrinzeCharming (Mar 2, 2016)

*Ever After*

A poisoned chalice filled with malice
 crime never tasted so sweet. 
Darling Alice leaves the palace
 fate waits for defeat. 

The handsome man holds her hand
eyes filled with love and pride. 
"Take a sip, my love."
Oh, what a smile can hide!

The princess' lips embrace the rim
fresh wine sifts through her nose. 
A pause, a kiss on his cheek
from his soon to be withered rose. 

The wine seeps through her body 
his hand placed over her dress.
"Four more months, my dear." 
"Trust me, it's much less."


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## shedpog329 (Mar 3, 2016)

*Stifling Hands
*Polymerase upon the fivefold,
a double dose of vermouth
had gone n' done did him in.

His ballot was a toe to toe
notioned with the embraced olive.

Her minute fingers
slithered his way
like a prey for the many.

Condemned by the paper fold
supplicate impressions
only acquitted with wealth.

Chained by the pair,
snake eyed and sneering
she sties his glasses of gallantry.


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## Darkkin (Mar 5, 2016)

*Toxic and Tonic: Some Language and Themes*

Toxic and Tonic

A hazy death of day, there at the tail end of May—
Just a day, the breezes balmy, a day to open windows,
to simply let that bright music play.

Just such a day, for sprawling on the tender grass—
To browse and drowse, a moment stolen—Sublime light.
Prismed innocence, delicate as blown glass.

Twilight closing, the spell of the indie ballad rising, holding—
A dress of cotton, crisp and bright, fitted…Flared and whirling.
A soul, free and unafraid, trust in hands unworthy of its molding.

White in her dress, barefoot on the grass, Toxic’s music bright.
It was just a day, who knew it was to be the last—
No way of knowing—Preventing a brutal, swinging right.

A spirit tonic, a chalice of poison, in covetous Leather’s hands.
White in the thrall of a crass yet lovely song—twirling, unaware.
A hand on her wrist, a bruising manacle—an unshakable band.

Revere broken, fear so much more than token, flaring bright.
Leather in her face, reeking of poison drink—Poor Toxic White.
A wren trapped, bound by a hand, no way to take flight.

Flight gone, only fight remained, she flinched back, gained an inch.
Those fingers tightened rounded her wrist, biting deep—Purple smearing.
A single breath drawn, muscles braced against the coming pinch…

Toxic White—words, actions—Stating an unequivocal: No!
Leather bolstered by his poisoned chalice of liquid courage—
‘Stupid little bitch…I don’t think so…’

The fight for flight broke, a wave about Toxic White.
Yanking, whirling—A dead weight, gravity bearing down.
Bone to bone, White’s cheek to Leather’s brutal right.

Blinding pain, bare feet lashing out, wounded wren in flight.
The spun glass of trust shattered by a tonic—Toxic battered.
Leather uncaring of the damage inflicted by his bruising right.


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## Chesters Daughter (Mar 6, 2016)

*Anonymous submission:*

Child of Mourning

We found Nirvana on the black slopes above the sea
painted each other with soft volcanic ash
I sculpted you with my soft hands
shadowed angles and hard muscle
closing my eyes to your addiction
I worshiped you on my knees


I tasted the elixir of your passion
a seductive drug
sweet addiction on my lips
fire in my throat
poison growing in my belly
sea breeze soothing our heat


In a driftwood shack by the sea
I gave you a son
sculpted of our desire 
fragile as silk foam on waning tides
tiny translucent starfish fingers
perfect ocean pearl skin


Your poison contaminated
the sacred chalice of our son's body
helpless I screamed a primal curse at mortality
I buried him in the soft ashes of your addiction
as you moaned your denial
I never forgave you


You begged me to kneel and worship you
no longer addicted I moaned my denial
cowering in soft grey ashes of our passion
weeping acid tears of hate that eroded my face
I filled the empty chalice of our love with poison
as the sun set I watched as you disappeared into the sea


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## Chesters Daughter (Mar 6, 2016)

*Beneath the Sacristy Carpet (Mature Theme)*

Crumbs of evidence
were silently swept
beneath the sacristy carpet.

No need for parishioners
to be aware
their Sunday sermons
slithered past the guilty lips
of a sly serpent.

For thirty odd years -
from as many 
different pulpits -
Father misled his flock,
the diocese never seeking
to defrock
a purveyor of pure evil.

Hundreds of times
his busy hands
abandoned benediction
to grope inside vestments
tailored for children.

Scarring souls,
marring minds,
leaving countless crumbs behind,
as half-hearted spare prayers
were offered up
by tight-lipped brethren
choked by stiff collars.

Until little Greg McGee,
now a strapping lad
of twenty-three,
tracked Father down
and cornered him
in his latest rectory.

With chalice of gold,
from which Savior's blood
was served to the fold,
Father's skull was crushed.
Bits of bone
silently scattered
amongst countless crumbs
beneath the sacristy carpet.

The church defiled
hallowed ground
with Father's burial,
as Greg McGee, finally free,
watched on in ecstasy,
both of his hands, 
and soul,
unshackled.

For Pastor convinced 
conniving police
that feeble Father 
had two left feet
and was the cause 
of his demise.

A little white lie
set to rest beside
serious sins

all silently swept
beneath the sacristy carpet.


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## Rookish (Mar 8, 2016)

*Seduction's Vale*

In an ancient verdurous dale
there dwelled a crone of guile
mind sharp, though body frail

 Underneath those elder trees
by day she in gathering toiled, 
at night her fell cauldron broiled

 So it came to be that mighty Ludain
-valiant champion of legend and lore-
stepped within her verdant domain

 By drought his throat was gripped,
for no streams nor pools were found
and so, haggardly, he lay aground

 Uttering accursed earthly spells
weathered crone became maiden fair
eyes of emerald - with flaxen hair

 Offered she did to quench hero’s thirst
with water from dale’s deepest wells
Fated champion, filled with bliss,
unwavering her sweetest liquid drank

 Ho! Of charming maiden naught was seen
for now she wore a face of malice
Madly cackled the harridan then
as Ludain’s fingers loosed 
a poisoned chalice


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## rcallaci (Mar 9, 2016)

Upon these Lips 

I drink and press the poison to my lips-
A small droplet drips down to my chest
and rests, while my distressed heart,
beats to the slower tap, tap, tap, of the drum.

The tainted chalice falls to the ground-
as the sound pierces through the gurgling
gaggle of a dying body unwilling to go gently
into the night. The fright in knowing that my life 
will pass in a fleeting  whisper brings tears
to my bulging eyes.

I now realize that death is forever and the 
nothingness that it brings, sings its songs of oblivion- 
It was unwise to listen to my wounded heart, as I 
stare into the unfriendly face of death, that I alone 
brought forth- it stings my heart so, to never know, if you
will shed a tear at my passing-

I fade and ebb away, knowing that I will be nothing more than, but ash, and dust...


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## aj47 (Mar 9, 2016)

*The Last Drop*


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## Phil Istine (Mar 10, 2016)

*Holy Braille*

Holy Braille


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## Nellie (Mar 13, 2016)

*My Last Supper*

http://www.writingforums.com/thread...Chalice-quot?p=1976710&viewfull=1#post1976710


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## Blue (Mar 13, 2016)

*We Pick Our Poison*

We pick our poison,
Choose what hurts.
Beloved threat. Glorious treason,
Peace converts,
Dangerous rebellion
Which plagues elderly, corrupts youth.
Harsh, bitter; Chemicals tempt the hellion,
Encouraging disquiet; late comes the truth.

So dare to drink; drink to dare
From that poisoned chalice, offering release,
Red eyes; White pills; But then we don’t care,
Voices goad, hazy light and temporary peace.
Chalice raised, liquid burns,
Drink, forget; no one knows.
Heavenly oblivion, and hellish intoxication learns
This chalice is poison; But you chose.

You should have listened; we always pick the poison.


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## Tiashe (Mar 14, 2016)

*Ruined soul in poisoned world*

Endless days of waiting
Waiting to be freed
Freed from glares and insults
Insults that pierce through the container

Container that holds the soul
Soul which is now tarnished
Tarnished with negativity
Negativity that spreads like poison

Poison takes hold of the world


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## ned (Mar 15, 2016)

*Poisoned Chalice*

_this chalice is a gift, to move as you wish
to fly like a bird, to swim like a fish

to skip the night fantastic, flowing in your grace
see beauty in the mirror, adorned by your face

and tho' your wits spawn love, the vessel tells the tale
the quench of physical lust, the holy grail

so go through the motions, passion let loose
the trick of the chalice - is to reproduce

then find another mug for genetic survival
drinking in the love of each new arrival

and let the seasons slide, tending your garden
while blue veins swell and arteries harden

so swing your grandchild high, the last hooray of life
explaining your backache to your long-patient wife

and witness yourself, limping from the stage
a turn for the worst, a turn of the page

then weep from every wrinkle, 
bleed from every callous

for this dulled, corrupted cup,
this poisened chalice._


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## Chesters Daughter (Mar 15, 2016)

This challenge is now closed.


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