WEP Challenge August 2019: Red Wheelbarrow

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

The story's protagonist, Ed, is a little batty

Before we begin:

This is the story of Ed and his red wheelbarrow. The story is composed of a series of limericks about a vampire named Ed and his love for gardening late at night with his red wheelbarrow.

Here is what I want in a critique.

I want to know about technical and formatting issues and the sorts of things which would improve the story's readability.

Here is what I do not want in a critique.

"I don't like limericks or poems. I don't like silly stories. I don't like stories about vampires with red wheelbarrows."

If you hate vampires, red wheelbarrows, limericks, poems, or silliness, do us both a favor and don't read this story. I don't want you reading stuff you don't like. You aren't doing either of us any favors. If that's what you're here to say, please move on down the line to the next story on the list. 

If you're still here, I assume you want to read 1000 words about Ed and his red wheelbarrow. So, here you go.

There was a vampire named Ed

Who had a house with a garden and shed

He planted flowers at night

Underneath the moonlight

Hauling dirt in his wheelbarrow so red

Everyone thought Ed was up to no good

Hauling dirt and stakes made of wood

What could he be doing

Besides slaying and slewing

And not sleeping when folks thought he should

Ed planted colorful posies

Pansies, daisies, and rosies

He planted fruit trees

And big pink peonies

To delight every passerby's nosies

Halloween was Ed's favorite day

He put dried flowers in a bouquet

He picked pumpkins and squashes

And went out in his galoshes

To spruce up the yard the right way

Ed's house was festive and spooky

He was harmless, though a bit kooky

But everyone was afraid

So away they all stayed

Leaving Ed feeling lonesome and ooky

The next day, Ed found a letter

He hoped it would make him feel better

But the letter was mean

Called him a blood-sucking fiend

As Ed read, his cheeks became wetter

Ed knew he had to explain

He didn't eat people or even their brains

His blood came in sealed bags

Labeled neatly with tags

From biting he always abstained

So, one day in the middle of winter

Ed invited the neighbors to dinner

He served a nice stew

And apple pie too

As a chef, Ed was no beginner

Ed printed booklets to tell his story

He was a vampire but not so gory

He presented no danger

To friend or to stranger

And he didn't go hunting for quarry

I must drink blood, it is true

But no harm will come to you

I must garden at night

When the moonlight is right

I can't be out when it's sunny and blue

I drink blood which has been donated

Or proper payment negotiated

I don't sleep in a coffin

At least not very often

I'm friendly if a bit understated

I haul dirt in my wheelbarrow red

To make a good flowerbed

I mow my lawn in the dark

Sometimes walk to the park

I promise you've nothing to dread

I like to cook cakes and pies

When night falls and the moon starts to rise

But sometimes it gets lonely

Cooking for myself only

I'd love to share my food with you guys

A few centuries ago, it would seem

Ed was a chef for a queen

He tended her gardens

And signed all her pardons

Tucked her in and wished her sweet dreams

While visiting a strange land

Ed was attacked by a vampire man

Who drank up Ed's blood

And left him in the mud

Out in the barren wasteland

Ed bit the vampire while fighting

On that night so terribly frightening

Ed didn't die

And so, by the by

He awoke to a sharp crack of lightning

Ed knew he'd become a vampire

And the sun would make him catch fire

He found an old mausoleum

Where no-one could see him

In the daytime, he would there retire

At night, Ed went out and drank blood

But didn't drain folks or leave them in the mud

He couldn't go home

He felt sad and alone

His life had become quite a dud

Ed moved from town to town

Slept in any mausoleum he found

He slept in ship cargo holds

And castle strongholds

He traveled the globe all around

In modern times, Ed settled down

He was tired of traveling around

He didn't need to hypnotize

Unlucky girls and guys

When it was time to chow down

Ed found a house where he could stay

And get his blood the modern way

He bought his wheelbarrow red

And flour to make bread

And thought that things would be okay

If you're nervous I understand, you see

Said the booklet Ed passed out for free

I'm glad you've come by

Please have a slice of pie

And maybe a nice cup of tea

Folks soon discovered Ed was quite nice

His house smelled of sugar and spice

He was a genial host

To both the living and ghosts

And his pie had each guest enticed

Then there came a knock at the door

A voice said, "have you room for one more?"

It was a voice Ed had known

In his long-ago home

He almost fell in a faint on the floor

"My Queen, how can you be alive?"

Ed inquired his eyes wide with surprise

The Queen shook her head

"Not alive, I'm undead.

I wonder, will you invite me inside?"

Ed asked the Queen to come in right away

She smiled as she stood in the foyer

"I knew you wouldn't leave me alone

So, when you didn't come home

I went looking for you the next day."

The Queen said she met a vampire

Who drank her blood and threw her into the briar

But she bit him back

While he made his attack

When day came, she hid in the church with the spire

"I searched for you for year upon year,"

The Queen said, her eyes filled with tears

"It was bad luck, I think,"

Ed said, and gave her a drink

"For with you, I can never feel fear."

"Ed, you were a wonderful chef,

And as a gardener, you were the best

But I must tell you the truth

From the time of my youth

I loved you and none of the rest."

Ed married the Queen Christmas night

And everything was all right

Then when spring began

According to plan

Their garden was a glorious sight

There was a vampire named Ed

Who had a wheelbarrow painted bright red

He used to be lonely

But he has his one and only

And his neighbors think he bakes the best bread

Ed and the Queen now have a pet crow

And they adopted a werewolf, you know

Instead of howling at the moon

He sings a cool tune

And dogs follow him wherever he goes

 With love from Ed, the Queen, and their family

NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 17: Adam Online

Adam Online

I don't go on Facebook much any more

And I really don't blog a lot either

So we'll open up the old Google Plus

And see how we can wax poetic

About a guy who's online presence

Is really kind of boring

For something far more interesting

I suggest that you check out a French Canadian cowboy zombie hunter

For something far more heartwarming, you can help save a cat's life

For something more beautiful, you can look at the ocean

But I guess you still want to see

Something about me

I was born gay, and I follow the ray

I love those who were born straight but refuse to hate

Last night I discovered and shared music by a Reggae man named Mike Love

I also love that sassy Adam Lambert

Sometimes I bitch about my ex boyfriend

But I sure as hell don't miss him

Even if she wasn't my cousin I'd still be really pissed

About the hate that radical cool chick The Real Cie has received

For expressing sympathy towards someone whose situation

Is beyond appalling

Cie, don't give up 

Your heart is one of the best I've ever known

You've known far too much pain

And far too little joy

Cie and I wrote a post together

Which exposes our ignorance

Of how the Interwebs work

We're kinda old and out of touch, I guess

Oh, before you click that link

There's a picture in the post of some guy's weiner

We also have kind of an adolescent sense of humor

So I guess that's about it for old Adam's online presence

It's kind of weak sauce

But I have a little fun when I stop by

I guess I'm like that guy who hangs out by the dip at parties

Nursing a beer

And then slips out with no-one really noticing

~Adam~

The Prompt:

Today, I want you to try to write a “social media”-style poem. Namecheck all of your friends. Quote from their texts, tweets, FB status updates, twitter accounts, and blogposts, and the back of the cereal box on your breakfast table. The poem is about you and you are about what you say, think, talk, eat. You might end up with a poem that seems bizarrely solipsistic (like the internet itself, maybe?), but there might also be a spark there of something live and fun and present (like the verbal equivalent of a really great animated cat .gif).

NaPoWriMo Day 8: Changing My Mind About Nukes: A Palinode

Changing My Mind About Nukes:

A Palinode

I used to be all about pacifism

Sunshine and flowers and love and peace

And no nukes

Definitely no nukes

When I got on the Internet

My goal was to spread the love

The message of peace

And my belief that no nukes is good nukes

But then I met the bullies

And the haters

And the thought police

And more than plenty

Of this type

Saying mean things about the way people look

Making deliberate rude comments on people's posts

And worst of all, telling people they should kill themselves

It really bothered me how few people seemed to care

That the words of these ill-doers had the potential to do so much harm

I became disillusioned, jaded, my heart turned black

And I started to reconsider my position on nukes

At this point, if we could take all the trolls to an asteroid

And nuke them straight to hell

I'd say give 'em as many megatons as we've got stockpiled

Hell, I'll even push the button

Because these really are terrible people

And I don't see any chance for redemption

You don't deliberately seek to make others feel bad

Or try to push them to kill themselves

Unless you are a really, really shitty excuse for a human being

Thanks for making me change my mind about nukes

I now see that even things that could destroy the planet have redeeming value

As opposed to those of you who tear others down to build yourselves up

Fuck you.

~Naila~

The Prompt:

And now, without further ado, our prompt (optional as always) for Day Eight: today I challenge you to write a palinode. And what’s that? It’s a poem in which the poet retracts a statement made in an earlier poem. You could take that route or, if you don’t have an actual poetically-expressed statement you want to retract, maybe you could write a poem in which you explain your reasons for changing your mind about something. 

Notes:

I'm pulling no punches tonight. These bullies and trolls really have my goat, and my goat is extremely angry at being had. I have posted two images below. The first image is glorious, the second is gruesome--and yet darkly, disgustingly humorous. Proceed past the glorious one at your own risk.

Know why we agreed to give this guy the questionable honor of dedicating our site featuring poetry of perhaps highly dubious quality to him?

Because he's always been the total antithesis of the kind of crappy people I wrote the poem about.

Even though his brain's being destroyed by a horrible disease, he's still superior to them in every way, shape and form to their ilk

Anyone who doesn't like the fact that we've done this can...

Seriously. Nobody involved with this project should ever have to be ashamed of their feelings. It seems like so many people are afraid of feeling anything genuine or deep, and it's destroying the world, turning us into a bunch of apathetic or downright hateful monsters.

Do not be ashamed to feel love and to try to do right, even though love sometimes hurts like hell and right is sometimes harder to do than wrong.