# October Challenge: "Find Meat On Bones"



## Chesters Daughter (Oct 1, 2017)

The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by Firemajic is: *Find Meat on Bones* (with Jul's thanks to Dylan Thomas for the inspiration)

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 October at 7pm EST. *


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## C.Gholy (Oct 2, 2017)

Here's my entry.


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## Darkkin (Oct 2, 2017)

*Black and White:  Bones to Pick*

Black and White: Bones to Pick


A hunter sleek, feared and by the ocean’s cultures oft revered.
A god accompanied by the pilot, that patient harbinger of woe.
It is the apex, a hunter of the deepest reaches, yet it still fears.

The White quakes at the echoes of a song, giants clad in black,
rovers from the basin shores, at home among deep arctic floes.
Tides are changing, sea lions cheer on an old foe fighting back.

A matriarch crowned, breaches, song a ricochet o’er the sound—
Grande dame of that bay, she calls them that wary White’s woe.
A dynasty, rising, hers…Apex under siege to the ocean’s round.   

Voices merge—a net, bubbles woven by ghosts from the deep.
Refrains, haunted, once broken now resound across the floes.
Ink blots ripple, ebony clad the tribes converge, feasts to reap.

Seal lions, sleek and clever, seek the lee of the invading legion—
Rough knuckles of broken stone speak of past and coming woe.
Dorsals cleave the tippetted caps, at stake—reign of the region.  

Ethereal songs, battle standards of bubbles, teeth well honed,
the Dame’s troops, unleashed.  The monochrome riptide flows.
Ebony crown leading, a tidal surge.  White, the hunted, thrown.

Dazed by the Dame, a stunning show—Dorsals, closing fast.
Water presses, a lover’s embrace much to great White’s woe.
Where Dame leads, the legion goes.  The victory nature cast.

Black and bright, whale song a fanfare for a queen crowned—
Orcas upon the flesh of the White, beast served on the bone.
A battle, ageless—hidden in the cycles of that brutal sound.


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## andrewclunn (Oct 5, 2017)

*Who Wants Seconds?*

Who Wants Seconds?

This chicken finger soup
is finger lick'n good.
The chicken finger meat's so sweet
and falls right off the bone.

It's Afshan's most prized recipe.
She guards it with her life.
And where she comes from thieves
get their hands cut off with knives.

It's the just right amount of rice,
and the spice isn't too strong.
And you know, I never knew
that chicken's fingers got this long.

This chicken finger soup
is finger lick'n good.
The chicken finger meat's so sweet
and falls right off the bone.


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## ned (Oct 6, 2017)

the numbers that kill you


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## Chesters Daughter (Oct 6, 2017)

*The Cutting Edge Is the Way to Snare That "A"*

The professor retrieved a microscope
then summoned two trusted aides
hoping the three could agree
that the meatless mess
disgracing his desk
might somehow be saved.

His intensified eye 
quickly discerned
remnants of ash  
from abundant butts burned
clinging to rings
leaky coffee cups bring
to the table
amidst an all-nighter

during which 
this writer
sadly failed to recall 
anything
he had learned at all.

Aside from sooty decoration
born of desperation,
that paper was adorned
with no more than bones
without an ounce of protein 
to keep the skeleton warm.

Together they decided
there was no grounds to fight it,
an outline was submitted
sans the author having knitted
any precious flesh
for his reader to digest.

So blasphemy it was
too far gone 
for rehabilitation,
final drafts, after all,
should be rife 
with pure persuasion.

That skeleton earned an F
slashing the semester to a B
while the student whined and wailed
and pled on bended knee

to salvage his 4.0.

He was met with raucous laughter
and told where he should go.

When that young man finally
relearned how to breathe,
he borrowed some bones
from a bio lab slab
fancying 
he could atone
by getting them dressed
in their bloody best.
Such a meaty concept 
surely begged a test;
he'd show them his best
and boost that grade. 

Once the seventh 
slice was made,
the flayed professor 
screeched "A plus!"
for the semester
and that threatened 4.0
was subsequently saved

or so believed the boy
who was found
fiercely hugging
the muscle he'd bound
to a plastic frame.

To this day,
he still celebrates 
his perfect GPA
shackled in a canvas jacket
drenched in drool

as he eagerly awaits
his acceptance letter
from Harvard Medical School.


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## aj47 (Oct 6, 2017)

*depression*

bare bones roasted
simmered with veggies and herbs
in grandma's kitchen
served in hollowed-out bread bowls
you could taste the meat


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## Pete_C (Oct 10, 2017)

*Peep Show (Warning: language and Mature Content)*


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## rcallaci (Oct 11, 2017)

*An Apocalyptic Sorrow*

An Apocalyptic Sorrow 

cry me a river along these fetid seas of doubt  
where acidic  tears fuel only apathy that
weighs down bony flaccid  hearts that were once
fat, ripe, and juicy-  

tattered pride, withered hope, and fragmented dreams
cuts deep within bone, gut, and marrow and   
are but harbingers of desolation of soul, mind, and 
spirit- 

stand up and fight alongside the rotting corpses; as their 
is nowhere to run and only a coward hides amongst
pestilence infested cockroach’s who eat the dead
with ravenous  joy-

the bell tolls thrice but only the deaf are left to answer 
its summons; as the rats scurry around for crumbs and 
droppings left by the flesh eating maggots as a token
of their appreciation-

yet a flicker of light remains and the fire although nearly
extinguished still burns--- matches can still be lit even when wet 
and switches can be fixed without a manual

Oblivion need wait another day...


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## Firemajic (Oct 11, 2017)

*Hunger Shame*

*The mirror lied and she believed
not realizing she was being mastered 
by an illness that deceived 

She saw what was no longer there
a fat child with chubby cheeks and curves
she did not want and could not hide

She was ashamed to let anyone see her eat
was not strong enough to defeat the voices
that said she would be better off.... dead

Each cruel word that was flung like a dart
broke her heart and scarred her soul
until she did not know her own self worth 

Kneeling she vomited her pain, rinsed her mouth
and flushed away the shame, surrendering
to the demons of her disease 

She ate her pain and purged her shame
but her sunken eyes were too blind to see 
a skeleton in the mirror, with no meat left on the bone...





*


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## sas (Oct 11, 2017)

*Southern Fried Chicken*


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## TuesdayEve (Oct 11, 2017)

Midnights' Curtain

I am the defiler, the one that haunts your dreams
I'm inside your head tonite muffling all your screams
Hold your children closely, window shades are drawn
I'm the squeaky stairway, rooftop thump predawn
My hunger, unsatisfied, my thirst unquenched for blood
I roam through silent gangways unlit and black above
Cloaked in midnights' curtain from eyes of trusting souls
I hunt and search unceasingly for blood red meat on bones


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## Neetu (Oct 11, 2017)

A Farmer's Choice  (*Warning: Mature Content)*

He likes his meat rare
and of the finest cut,
fresh from the farm
the milkmaids run.

Well-fed, round-bottomed,
skin smooth like cream--
he dreams the taste,
tastes the dream.

He insists it’s best
fresh from the farm
where the soil is rich
and the air is clean.

Little would you guess
what he really means
when he says he craves
fat, jeers at the lean.

(c) Neetu Malik


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## Chesters Daughter (Oct 15, 2017)

*Secure entry submitted by Grizzly:*

_if what i mean is hunger, if what i mean is marry me
_


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