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			just mercedes Unregistered
 
 
		
 
	 
	
	
		 
 
 
Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month. 
 
 Topic 06: Write a poem inspired by a ransom note.
 
http://www.nzherald.co.nz/crime/news/article.cfm?c_id=30&objectid=1592673
 
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/1931060.stm
 
http://www.crime.co.nz/c-files.aspx?ID=10283
 
or a kidnapping with no note
 
http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly...d6-d4.html
 Form : any
 Line requirements: 8 lines or more
Sorry - I couldn't find a link to NZ literature for this, though I'm sure there must be some.
 
		
	 
	
	
			just mercedes Unregistered
 
 
		
 
	 
	
	
		The baby’s been stolen!
 
The envelope contained a ransom note, 
as well as polaroid photographs of baby Kahu
on a couch with a newspaper pinned to the wall 
behind her. Baby Kahu was alive and well,
would be returned in exchange for dollars.
 
If there was any interference from the Police, 
or the ransom was not paid in full, 
she would not see her baby again.
 
There would only be one attempt to collect 
the ransom; if there was any sign of Police, 
or aircraft, she would not see her baby again.
 
$1 million dollars New Zealand in $100 dollar bills, 
$1 million dollars New Zealand in $50 dollar bills, 
and $1 million dollars in gold coins. Further instructions 
outlining the manner in which Donna Marie Tai Tokerau 
DURIE HALL should arrange delivery of the ransom.
 
The government decided to pay.
 
 
(Found, except for the final line, in ‘Police Summary of Facts’ re Terence Traynor’s court appearance  http://www.police.govt.nz/news/release/494)
 
The Lindbergh case
 
Because my father was a pilot, I 
took heed when ‘aviation’ reared its head. 
A baby, kidnapped twenty years ago, 
became my favourite story read, in bed.
 
Brave pilot’s only son, the story goes. 
They’re rich, a servant puts the boy to bed 
and closes windows. He would hear a cry 
from down the hall. Into the father’s head
 
a thought of danger leaps, he runs, and finds 
the window open, no one in the bed. 
A ladder leans against a wall nearby. 
The curtains flap. There’s nothing in his head
 
but need to find his son. ‘Of course I’ll pay!’ 
He does, but Charles is dead, and flown away.
	 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		random note 
 eccuse moh
 I ate the missing
 iceceam
 don't ask who
 will do
 with two moh
 nect time
 
		
	 
	
	
			just mercedes Unregistered
 
 
		
 
	 
	
	
		I don't know why this made me think of William Carlos William's plums, but it did.   
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		 (10-06-2017, 03:44 PM)just mercedes Wrote:  I don't know why this made me think of William Carlos William's plums, but it did.  
bingo
 
the prompt was so serious,... I did not want to write a serious poem, when I need to write humour, I zero out, and then it comes, one after another, birds on a string,  
what can I say  
ty
	 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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 Joined: Oct 2012
 
	
	
		Hobson's Choice
 Charlevilles point at a flint-locked war,
 pins map out infantry from the north.
 From field smoke Maori mountains are robbed
 vast lands are claimed by French muskets and grog.
 
 Tribal letters ascribed by proud chiefs
 ask for support despite their beliefs.
 The British are coming to help stop the wars
 oh your quite welcome, there's just one thing more.
 
 Sign this treaty and together we stand.
 God save the queen and give her your land.
 The North is quite small, we'll include the south
 colonize New Zealand, yes we'll help you out.
 
 What will happen when ask for your child back?
 We'll probably say sorry and that will be that.
 
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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 Joined: Oct 2010
 
	
		
		
		10-07-2017, 01:17 AM 
(This post was last modified: 10-07-2017, 03:48 AM by Todd.)
	
	 
		Gone
 She leaves home so often;
 you stop noticing.
 Until the day, she doesn’t come back.
 Light retreats to shadow,
 and everything narrows into a tunnel.
 You look at your husband over
 dinner, and push
 food around your plate. The hours drag
 waiting for a call, or a note,
 like in the movies, but there’s no bargaining
 except with God. She’s vanished
 in a perverse magic trick,
 out of your life,
 into a disappearing box,
 just before the magician died.
 
 No words exist
 to make her reappear.
 
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		@Todd, nice job, some powerful lines, I like the closing in tunnel sequence and the silent dinner. perhaps "just before the magician" rather than "and then"  just a thought I know these are only rough drafts but this is already very good. Best Keith
	 
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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 Joined: Oct 2010
 
	
	
		I like that thought, Keith, thanks. I'll take the note right now. Anything to reduce the "and's"
	 
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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 Joined: May 2014
 
	
	
		Democratic Tyranny
 We need complete control
 of your hope
 and fear.
 
 Acquiesce power and we'll offer
 cult of personality promises
 and a lonely sense
 of belonging.
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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 Joined: Aug 2016
 
	
	
		Dear brain, I have your liver.You just have to forgive her.
 I know you're only drinking
 to keep from over thinking.
 I'll return it how it was,
 if you quit, cold turkey, 'cause
 I miss how you were so smart.
 Sincerely, your heart.
 
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
 
		
	 
	
	
			just mercedes Unregistered
 
 
		
 
	 
	
	
		Keith, Todd, QDeath, CRNDL - four so different poems, each strong, each one another facet of poetic response - I'm so much loving this!
	 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		 (10-07-2017, 07:06 AM)CRNDLSM Wrote:  Dear brain, I have your liver.You just have to forgive her.
 I know you're only drinking
 to keep from over thinking.
 I'll return it how it was,
 if you quit, cold turkey, 'cause
 I miss how you were so smart.
 Sincerely, your heart.
 
I love this take on the prompt  
thanks for sharing
	 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		I saw a kid
 napping in a tent camouflaged in the woods
 near the black waters of Lake Matheson.
 When I approached, I saw an empty bread bag,
 a container of peanut butter.
 When I asked if he was O.K., he started up
 in panic.  "Get back!" he screamed, backing
 to the corner of the tent.
 His eyes were wide and hungry
 like empty saucers.
 "I ran away from home!
 And left my parents a ransomed note
 asking for $100.  I need it
 for more bread and peanut butter.
 Will you help me?" he asked.
 "Or you could just go home and eat," I said.
 
Thanks to this Forum  
		
	 
	
	
			just mercedes Unregistered
 
 
		
 
	 
	
	
		kolemath - great twist on a ransom note
	 
		
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