Sunday August 7th, 2011

The exercise:

Let us write about: the bodyguard.

On our way home, but not quite there yet - so this is a scheduled post.

Mine:

He does his best,
Which isn't very much;
It's not his fault
He faints at a touch.

He has a gun,
Though it's never loaded,
And the barrel
Is terribly corroded.

I'd fire him
But I can't; you see,
Despite all his faults...
At least he's free.

7 Comments:

Ruby said...

He is my bodygaurd
He is my protector
He is my super hero
He is my own police officer
He is more than all those things...
He is my Dad

Greg said...

@Ruby: Wow, I love the sentiment you have there!

@Marc: The simplicity of the verse works really well to tell your story, and I really like the first two stanzas. I don't understand the last line though; why is the narrator not free?

The bodyguard
Shadows twist and dark tendrils
Creep across the wall.
Lady Andress sits alone,
Waiting for her lover's call.
In the hallway, something rattles,
But she never turns her head.
Her bodyguard, silent, lethal,
Will see th'intruder dead.

modelhorsemad said...

@Greg: I think Marc means 'At least he's free' as the person dosen't have to pay for him.

Zhongming said...

Hi folks. Have you all been well? Here's my little awful contribution. :)

Bodyguard 

He's always by my side,
Standing tall and looking strong.
The fierce look on his face,
Ticking like a real clock.

A gust of wind were
Never a threat to him.
A simple smile only meant 
Deviously dangerous theme.

When the shallow eyes creep,
The nose whistle as a trigger.
When it's time to sleep,
He barely rubs his eyes.

Heather said...

No the direction I intended to go. All well!

-----

It's a beautiful warm and sunny day. Everywhere I look, young people are celebrating the day through idleness and friendship. A couple walks slowly down the broad sidewalk, hand-on-hand, licking ice cream cones. A small group of students sit on a blanket laughing, their bodies rolling like waves with good humor. Others sit on the ledges and planters.

Clutching my books, I dodge the dancing shadows cast by the tall maples and oaks common on campus. I strain to hear under the conversations for the slightest hint of his heavy footfall. My eyes dart between the groups of people, under the benches, and over my shoulders. I am constantly gripped by fear, paranoia, anxiety. Heaviest on my soul is the envy I feel toward those idle and careless moments the others take for granted.

If only I could hide from the always judging eyes of the Father. Then, maybe I too could enjoy a few minutes of idleness.

Rapdor 5/6 said...

He's not silent or lethal nor deadly.
he hasn't got a freezing ice cold stare.
As I sit in my office i hear a bump and he enters without a care.

I ask him if he is OK,
but he just stares in glee.
He makes a clumsy movement
and claims he's to protect me.

Now I just gape and stare,
then he turns around.
A gunshot. BOOM!!!
and he's lying on the ground.

DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***

I hope you like my poem.
@ greg, great peice of text.

mad man5/6! said...

I have a bodyguard who's name is Neil, he is very scary.He would wake me up at 6:00 in the morning and take us off to kitchen duties.