Submissions by Casted_Runes (Mr Karswell)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write poetry on a range of subjects and in a range of styles. My privacy is extremely important to me, though I hope that you enjoy my work and that I enjoy yours.
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
3rd Feb 2025 8:53pm
3rd Feb 2025 8:53pm
Miss Birdseed
The public house had long been haunted by some strange presence that upset slop trays and let beer dribble out from the taps when no one was looking, but it was not really about this that the publican's wife had come to consult the occult detective, Joshua Samuels.
'That's just the Pimlico poisoner, that is' said Mrs Godalming with weird alacrity. 'Back in my grandfather's day, the pub was frequented by bigwigs from Westminster on their way to County Hall, where Maggie Struthers was strung up by her neck in the place of execution for killing her husband and child with arsenic....
'That's just the Pimlico poisoner, that is' said Mrs Godalming with weird alacrity. 'Back in my grandfather's day, the pub was frequented by bigwigs from Westminster on their way to County Hall, where Maggie Struthers was strung up by her neck in the place of execution for killing her husband and child with arsenic....
#evil
#ghosts
#historical #horror
#historical #horror
81 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Feb 2025 11:48am
3rd Feb 2025 11:48am
Coffee Haiku, a Cycle
Cup of coffee left.
On low wall outside office.
Collecting raindrops.
Two days pass, a third.
Coffee cup remains, sat there.
Is it now more rain?
A light winter frost.
It glazes leaves and walkways.
Coffee cup remains, sat there.
On low wall outside office.
Collecting raindrops.
Two days pass, a third.
Coffee cup remains, sat there.
Is it now more rain?
A light winter frost.
It glazes leaves and walkways.
Coffee cup remains, sat there.
#coffee
#haiku
#nature #winter
#nature #winter
112 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Feb 2025 1:30am
2nd Feb 2025 1:30am
The Feminine Stain
When I was a kid
my dad said he could
tell always when
a book was penned
by female hand and mind,
in cases even where
a male pseudonym was used,
and so he’d have to put it down
and pick up something else instead,
a woman’s prose
being too flowery for him.
He was horrified when
I told him at 12
that my favourite author
was Agatha Christie,
but settled a little
when I was 15
and reading Patricia Highsmith,
because she was a lesbian
and therefore of masculine mind,
to his mind.
...
my dad said he could
tell always when
a book was penned
by female hand and mind,
in cases even where
a male pseudonym was used,
and so he’d have to put it down
and pick up something else instead,
a woman’s prose
being too flowery for him.
He was horrified when
I told him at 12
that my favourite author
was Agatha Christie,
but settled a little
when I was 15
and reading Patricia Highsmith,
because she was a lesbian
and therefore of masculine mind,
to his mind.
...
#art
#feminism
#hate #oppression
#hate #oppression
93 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
1st Feb 2025 6:04pm
1st Feb 2025 6:04pm
A Faithless Eucharist
The only thing that gave me life
was art and literature,
though once I confused religion with such,
and so reclining with the damned,
I felt that I could follow Him.
But really it’s as empty as a faithless Eucharist,
and how I used art was only to form
a self that could like dough and flowers rise.
If not the Watchmaker at least
to some sense that you’re whole.
I think I’ll still be cynical and wretched at 50.
I’ve never cared for people, life,
except when evolution twists
genetic imperative’s knife.
was art and literature,
though once I confused religion with such,
and so reclining with the damned,
I felt that I could follow Him.
But really it’s as empty as a faithless Eucharist,
and how I used art was only to form
a self that could like dough and flowers rise.
If not the Watchmaker at least
to some sense that you’re whole.
I think I’ll still be cynical and wretched at 50.
I’ve never cared for people, life,
except when evolution twists
genetic imperative’s knife.
#apathy
#art
#atheism #spiritual
#atheism #spiritual
120 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
29th Jan 2025 1:53am
29th Jan 2025 1:53am
Revenge of the Fembots
When I was a kid
I wanted to write
a sequel to Levin’s
The Stepford Wives wherein
the wives would gain
fresh sentience
and calibrate
their private parts
to pulverise
their husband’s bits
like so much sausage meat
blended to mush.
Quite how I would
have executed this
I do not know,
but genius in youth
is not at all
times practical.
I wanted to write
a sequel to Levin’s
The Stepford Wives wherein
the wives would gain
fresh sentience
and calibrate
their private parts
to pulverise
their husband’s bits
like so much sausage meat
blended to mush.
Quite how I would
have executed this
I do not know,
but genius in youth
is not at all
times practical.
#funny
89 reads
2 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Jan 2025 6:33pm
24th Jan 2025 6:33pm
Beat Me to a Pulp
"... a type of work produced by half-educated and wholly incompetent writers for consumption by office boys, factory girls, and other persons devoid of culture and literary taste." - R Austin Freeman, "The Art of the Detective Story"
I try for taste, you understand,
and read sonnets,
collect novels that reap plaudits.
I accept manna from God's hand.
But often my taste reflects the dark mass
of office girls and workshop boys,
and so I fly like Lucifer, alas,
to folk fiction and pulpy joys.
Elysia's bookshelves...
I try for taste, you understand,
and read sonnets,
collect novels that reap plaudits.
I accept manna from God's hand.
But often my taste reflects the dark mass
of office girls and workshop boys,
and so I fly like Lucifer, alas,
to folk fiction and pulpy joys.
Elysia's bookshelves...
#art
#books
#PopCulture #reading
#PopCulture #reading
107 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Jan 2025 3:07pm
17th Jan 2025 3:07pm
Death of a Big Fish
for David Lynch
The strangeness inherent in you
was not disturbing, in the end,
not in a sense that prophesied flames, at least,
but opened up a strange vista,
one terrifying in Radcliffe’s vision
of what defines terror:
expanding your soul, not annihilating.
A woman in trouble. Wrapped in plastic.
Bipedal bunny rabbits in human clothes.
Dennis Hopper huffing gas.
Laura Dern with weird stretched-out smile.
Or LAX in brightest day.
The sentimental turned
to sinister. Black Lodge. Dwarf.
These painterly...
The strangeness inherent in you
was not disturbing, in the end,
not in a sense that prophesied flames, at least,
but opened up a strange vista,
one terrifying in Radcliffe’s vision
of what defines terror:
expanding your soul, not annihilating.
A woman in trouble. Wrapped in plastic.
Bipedal bunny rabbits in human clothes.
Dennis Hopper huffing gas.
Laura Dern with weird stretched-out smile.
Or LAX in brightest day.
The sentimental turned
to sinister. Black Lodge. Dwarf.
These painterly...
#admiration
#art
#LifeCycle #PopCulture
#LifeCycle #PopCulture
115 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Jan 2025 6:31pm
16th Jan 2025 6:31pm
Love Rots
Love, my friends, is overrated.
Be compassionate, have empathy instead.
And not always regard yourself
as Tristan or Isolde,
the Lochinvar who came
to overturn the bridal feast.
Kindness,
when done with earnestness
and not as trickery,
is what disperses clouds
to give the withered crops fresh light.
Where love can be selfish, needful,
a passion rushing forth
as much to solder cracks
in one's own soul.
Love pressed the pillow down
on Desdemona's face,
or so Othello might have claimed.
Love...
Be compassionate, have empathy instead.
And not always regard yourself
as Tristan or Isolde,
the Lochinvar who came
to overturn the bridal feast.
Kindness,
when done with earnestness
and not as trickery,
is what disperses clouds
to give the withered crops fresh light.
Where love can be selfish, needful,
a passion rushing forth
as much to solder cracks
in one's own soul.
Love pressed the pillow down
on Desdemona's face,
or so Othello might have claimed.
Love...
#culture
#kindness
#love #mythology
#love #mythology
131 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Jan 2025 3:15pm
13th Jan 2025 3:15pm
Like an Echo
"She should be like a town clock — keep time and observe regularity. She should not, however, like a town clock, speak so loudly that all the town may hear her.
She should be like a snail — prudent, and keep within her own house.
She should not be like a snail — carry all she has upon her back.
She should be like an echo — speak when spoken to.
But she should not be like an echo — determined always to have the last word." - "Three Wifely Virtues", The Australian Woman's Mirror, 24/02/1925
A snail slimes across a leaf,
Its hearth and...
She should be like a snail — prudent, and keep within her own house.
She should not be like a snail — carry all she has upon her back.
She should be like an echo — speak when spoken to.
But she should not be like an echo — determined always to have the last word." - "Three Wifely Virtues", The Australian Woman's Mirror, 24/02/1925
A snail slimes across a leaf,
Its hearth and...
#abuse
#feminism
#historical #marriage
#historical #marriage
149 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Jan 2025 3:32pm
12th Jan 2025 3:32pm
A Deathly Balcony
A murder of crows, I saw on her breast!’
Our vicar said to us.
‘That room enough was on her chest
Proves that Satan gave her that bust!’
Our vicar said to us.
‘That room enough was on her chest
Proves that Satan gave her that bust!’
#funny
95 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
11th Jan 2025 8:36pm
11th Jan 2025 8:36pm
Why Are Your Poems So Dark?
after Linda Pastan
You could psychologise, of course,
could tell them dad was mean to you,
that mummy took cocaine
and never made dinner on time.
Though maybe it’s gauche
to flaunt your childhood these days,
as if you’re just auditioning
to be the underdog
of some appalling talent show,
because in your heart you simply know
that you’re not good enough.
You think, perhaps, it’s merely this:
a strain of cynic in the blood,
a slanted sight, a faithlessness
that seeks its fellows out in art,
an ear...
You could psychologise, of course,
could tell them dad was mean to you,
that mummy took cocaine
and never made dinner on time.
Though maybe it’s gauche
to flaunt your childhood these days,
as if you’re just auditioning
to be the underdog
of some appalling talent show,
because in your heart you simply know
that you’re not good enough.
You think, perhaps, it’s merely this:
a strain of cynic in the blood,
a slanted sight, a faithlessness
that seeks its fellows out in art,
an ear...
#dark
#horror
#violence #WritingPoetry
#violence #WritingPoetry
131 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
11th Jan 2025 6:57pm
11th Jan 2025 6:57pm
The Poison Bride
When the famous poetess passed out in her mashed potatoes on Christmas Eve, 1978, her husband rolled his eyes and her two children carried on glumly chewing. It was a semi-regular performance, the passing out act. George wondered how he'd ended up marrying the silly bitch.
Once on a literary tour, they'd been besieged by girls who seemed to regard him with envy for having such unfettered access to their mentally unstable idol. He'd happily switch places with any of them, or the middle-aged sad-sack men who worried at her ankles at luncheons. Two years ago, she'd had a brief...
Once on a literary tour, they'd been besieged by girls who seemed to regard him with envy for having such unfettered access to their mentally unstable idol. He'd happily switch places with any of them, or the middle-aged sad-sack men who worried at her ankles at luncheons. Two years ago, she'd had a brief...
#death
#marriage
#ShortStory #violence
#ShortStory #violence
102 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Casted_Runes (Mr Karswell)
