# March Challenge: "Collision Course"



## Chesters Daughter (Mar 1, 2017)

The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by Gumby is: *C**ollision Course*

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. *Please note that all entries* *are eligible to receive critique in the voting thread.* 

*The inclusion of explanatory text or links of any kind within an entrant's challenge entry is prohibited and will be immediately removed upon discovery. As always, only one entry per member is permitted.
*
As previously announced, anonymous entries have been abolished, therefore, entrants must post their own entries in this thread, or if you desire to protect first rights, please post your entry in the *workshop thread*, and then post a link to it here in the public thread. *Failure to do so runs the risk of your entry being disqualifie**d*, so if you require assistance with the task, please PM *me*, and I will gladly help you.

If your entry contains strong language or mature content, *please include a disclaimer in your title.**

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. 

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

Everyone may now use the "Like" function whenever they so choose.



This challenge will close on the 15th of March at 7pm EST. 
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## shedpog329 (Mar 3, 2017)

*Hit and Run*

Old Ellington and East Windsor. When it was early,
I took turns up and down the parallels of the tobacco fields. 
The migrants usually tending the morning, 
the John Deere’s route
the sun enfolding the tractors before the passing 
that would make you squint your eyes funny. 

 We weren’t exactly Mayberry’s Andy Griffith
The Hee Haw’s or The Real McCoy’s, a little over the hill for us too.
The farthest I had gotten was playing the part of Little Luke;
and not too far passed the deep-rooted , 
ten year timeworn squash fields.

Anyway, that was the past. The squash fields,
the days of King of The Hill, the delays of some good childhood memory.
A quieter town, like the Wapping Fair 
or when Brian Rodriguez splattered his pants
back in elementary school
in front of all the boys to see, 
but for the most part, quiet


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## Nellie (Mar 4, 2017)

*Solitary Solution*

I must remain secure as
the collision in my mind
manifests my yearning to find
the liberty of normalcy
as these nights become endless.

I remain secure when
searching for that brilliant light
on the darkest side of life,
this solitary bondage
is the final solution.​


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## The Fantastical (Mar 6, 2017)

Here is my entry for this month - 

http://www.writingforums.com/thread...-Course-quot?p=2067700&viewfull=1#post2067700


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## aj47 (Mar 8, 2017)

would I lie to you?
do I look fat in these jeans?
ask me that again​


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## bdcharles (Mar 8, 2017)

Secure entry:

http://www.writingforums.com/thread...t-Collision-Course-quot?p=2068101#post2068101


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## sas (Mar 9, 2017)

*I Just Can’t Stop Seeing Red*

Since fashion determines perception,  
she is seen as a classier kind;
coordinated, pressed pristine—though
empty of confidence found within
my faded, older sister sweaters. 

She’ll hold, in place, perfect red tresses
with silken bands, damnation sent. Each
is a shade of her favorite green,
but can’t fight breezes in sullen air.

An errant ribbon that’s blown to ground
is easier reached by kneeling down.
Strong rubber bands hold my pony tail
while an echo screams and bus brakes’ squeal.

_When my later bus comes into view _

_she’ll brush up against me, like before._
_We both return to year ‘59_
_in her hither place with lost glazed eyes._
_I’ll compete against death’s attention_
_to tell her something she’ll need to hear . . ._
_there_—_at that bus stop. My shout simply_
_will fade_—_inside painful, diesel groans._
_It must stay, too late, as fate demands.

.
_


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## Darkkin (Mar 9, 2017)

Heckler and the Hammer of Highlay


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## Gumby (Mar 12, 2017)

The Old Woman and the Sea


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## Tealynn (Mar 14, 2017)

*Overslept*

Overslept

The dog got out.
The tot was tired.
The coffee-pot broke.
The car broke down.
The tire went flat.
You got pulled over.
A minute, or five, half an hour
doesn’t matter.
A dozen reasons.
The same lost time and

it changes everything.

You hit all the red lights.
You can’t miss the traffic.
You get stuck in a wreck.
You miss your train.
You grab the next.
You’re out of synch.
A stranger in everyone’s routine
but one.
A chance encounter
provided by time and

it changes everything.

She sees you; she knows.
You sense her; you look.
His stolen future
juxtaposed with
his broken past.
Never meant to imbricate,
living photographs
on an emotional crash course
over him.
Courtesy of time and

it changes everything.


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## Chesters Daughter (Mar 15, 2017)

*For Jordan (Mature Content)*

There were five or six;
the succession so rapid,
my mind was hard pressed 
to rival their pace.

The month of March
and fireworks
are an unlikely mix,
and the fight-or-flight tingle 
in my fingers
suggested my body knew
what my brain 
had yet to grasp.

Frustrated
by echo-induced impotence
and streetlamp starved yards
that forced me to abandon
a back window,
I swept the iPad off of the bed
and onto hard wood
praying a call would be made.

While coons battled over garbage,
I counted seconds
reaching six hundred and two
before my ears
picked up the approaching wail.

With optimism, I envisioned
some spattering of near misses
sprayed from a rolled down window
with none drawing blood

but in actuality,
it was a walk up;
close and personal
and done with purpose.

I was playing Candy Crush
in the wee hours,
of the Lord's day,
no less,
when I heard a murder.

As I attempted to number each pop,
projectiles smashed through
untinted Lexus glass
on a collision course
with the tender flesh
of a 21 year old male.

As I bemoaned my inability
to fix a location,
or make a call,
that young man clutched his neck
to staunch substantial flow

and he was petrified

and alone

and with his position unknown

I could not help him.

While my face flinched
and I paused my game,
his body was being riddled 
by bullets
on what should have been
a serene pre-dawn morn.

Curse the silence of suburbia.

At least in my old hood
it was harder to hear,
and when one cannot aid
another in need 
and so near,
background noise
becomes a gift.

As that undeserved surge
began to ebb,
I hope someone held him.

I would have.


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## Chesters Daughter (Mar 15, 2017)

This challenge is now closed.


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