# January Challenge: "Legacy"



## Fin (Jan 4, 2014)

Click here for the workshop thread


* Chosen by Pandora, this month's prompt is "Legacy"*


You're free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish, though site rules apply. The winner will receive the Laureate award, a free month of FoWF, and will get to choose next month's prompt.

You may have your entry posted in the *workshop thread* if you wish to protect your first rights. Note: If you do so, you must post a link to it here in the main thread or risk being disqualified.

Please send your entry to *Fin* if you wish to enter anonymously. If you would like it to be posted in the workshop section, then say so within the PM.

You have a ten minute grace period to edit your work after posting. Anything after that and it'll be discounted. So make sure it's as finished as it can be before entering.

Do not post comments in this thread. It's for entries only. If you have any questions or comments, please post them in the *Bards' Bistro.*


*This challenge will close on the 19th of January at 6pm EST.*


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## Staff Deployment (Jan 5, 2014)

He won.
He cheated, four aces.

"Up your sleeve?" I asked.
"Down my leg," he said.

"Easy," he said.


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## Fin (Jan 6, 2014)

*Chained but free
Anonymous Entry
*​
Enslaved, but free
when my master comes to see me
Her pale face, silk skin
My heart, it's meltin'.

I love her like light
that I have not seen
in years
I hated her at first
My capturer,
my tears.

One day i was graced
with her
bare except the lace.
Magic was made
and so was my child
9 months later

Still slaved
But my legacy
Goes free


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## Douglas (Jan 7, 2014)

Will they recall, your wealth and all, your achievements standing tall.
  The things you did, and those you hid, the mindset of a little kid.
  Your petty fights, your lofty heights, and goals obtained by setting sights.

  And those you hurt, by being curt, and treating others just like dirt.
  The broken hearts, all those false starts, relationships you tore apart.
  Your thoughtless quips, that stung like whips, spiteful as they left your lips.

  Or will they say, on this sad day, a lovely man has past away.
  He helped a lot, those that had not, with generosity that none forgot.
  Loved by all around, he would astound, with kindness that knew no bounds.

  And so you see, his legacy, main things recalled by you and me.
  Thoughts that last, about his past, are of goodness and a heart so vast.
  And like the dove, and heaven above, it’s all about unconditional love.


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## toddm (Jan 8, 2014)

*Pandora's Inheritance*

In a strange way the light illumines
the whites of her eyes, the smiles
and happy balloons, floating away
into an overexposed collodion sky.
High clouds are knife-spread too thin 
across the crimson-crusted morning.
The backyard is a frowning garden,
all monochrome and mildewed;
the birdbath brims with maple leaves
and black frozen water; a drunken 
wheelbarrow slumbers and rots 
amid shadows and unmown grass; 
but dawn is fresh upon the hard mud 
and fragments of plastic playthings, 
little smiling girls and pink-glitter horses 
with broken legs; the air is clean and cold, 
full of serene indifference and the scent 
of chimney smoke; a withered shrine 
of firewood and cinder blocks is forgotten 
in the shade of a dying brown fir; 
the house is locked and empty; she breathes 
on her fingers, and pines for her gloves; 
an icy tear falls from the aluminum awning, 
and shatters upon the crumpled earth.


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## OliverGrey (Jan 8, 2014)

Seed

    A flower
Stretched deep
 Dying buds
      Him

    Pollen
Shallow roots
 Fresh petals
      Me


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## Vitaly Ana (Jan 11, 2014)

An Ego Is a House of Cards (See link below)

http://www.writingforums.com/thread...ot-Legacy-quot-Workshop?p=1689495#post1689495


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## Pidgeon84 (Jan 11, 2014)

Nailed to the Wall (Mild Language)

  Your legacy imprinted on my skin
  It echoes through these dark halls
  Your blackened hymn
  Condemned to hell and nailed to the fucking wall
  I will kill it all
  I will send it all away
  I will squeeze it dry
  Until the blood runs through my fingers
  Severe this and see my salvation will take what I am due
  Eyes sewn shut and mouth stitched tight
  Scratch through the surface and show you my new might
  Branded in my memory
  I’ve been stripped down for all to see
  I’m left with this for all eternity
  I am everything you despise
  You are me in this fucked up guise 
  I am what know to be your demise
  Condemned to hell and nailed to the fucking wall
  I will kill it all
  I will send it all away
  I will squeeze it dry
  Until the blood runs through my fingers


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## aj47 (Jan 11, 2014)

Inheritance

My dad's cribbage board.
Mine now, but I had to learn.
Another lesson.


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## Gumby (Jan 15, 2014)

*Hollywood Legacy*


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## Ethan (Jan 16, 2014)

*An inconvenient Truth*

Inexorably drawn and treading the viscous water of dreams,
that were once perhaps my life,
I am deceived by that old liar Time,
and willingly persuaded by his cunning.

Uncertain,
I linger, like a ghost in shadows,
clinging to lifebelt lies that once were truths.
Captured snapshots like video reels
flash and play in random sequence;
the legacy of  a careless past 
watched now in guilty silence.

No longer deceived,
saved by this testament of
sepia tinted  pictures,
I see another truth.

Perhaps through eyes less jaundiced,
and cleared by the frankness of years,
I could choose to believe all lies,
and thus enjoy only
faultless dreams.


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## Fin (Jan 18, 2014)

*apropos
Anonymous Entry*​
I heard a prophet state the obvious,
a quiet man with violent hands
as calloused as the head of passerby
appropriating what he said.


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## Chesters Daughter (Jan 19, 2014)

*Fabric to Fear*

The gutters are dressed 
in autumn's best
concealing castoffs
made by man's 
insolent hand.

Stunningly vibrant,
the shawls of fall
are welcome respite
from skittering filth
that remains nomadic
until captured by starving, 
and sometimes bulimic,
sewer grates.

When she wearies 
of this season's line,
an abundance of Mother's 
forlorn sighs
will sweep away her creation 
disrobing curbs 
still sporting undergarments 
of summer garbage
as the populace
feigns sightlessness.

Being no sheep,
my vision is keen,
and once our designer
undresses sullied streets,
my eager eyes 
will espy leaden skies
praying Mother may cover
our disrespect
once more.

So pitiful
that her pure blankets
spun of love
will be mottled by muck
within moments.

We unruly recipients
of her seasonal gifts
must fear the future,
for there will come a day
when our offended modiste
adopts lava 
as her cloth of choice.


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## PiP (Jan 19, 2014)

*Death the Legacy of Life*

I wander through silent rooms;
  Mum’s treasured possessions, 
  priceless to her alone.

Shrouds no pockets,
possessions no value,
penniless, 
richer for being poorer. 

Photographs rekindle her image
like a spark in the dying embers
  of my memory distorted by grief.

Grief not from death, 
but for her mindless, winter years, 
  bleak and barren from dementia.

  A solitary tear shed,
in remembrance,
  my grief buried deep within.

“Goodbye Mum, you are at peace with God.”

Death, the legacy of life,
  finally brought freedom and a welcome release…


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