OctPoWriMo 8 - Bug Misplaced

I'm not following the prompt today because something happened to me last night that I just can't get out of my head, so I had to write about it.

Bug Misplaced

Taking a sip of ginger ale
Should not be a source for chilling tales.
Into my glass a beetle had slipped;
Heedless, I lifted it to my lips.
Instantly feeling something off,
Gagging and spitting, I gasped and coughed.
Twelve hours later, I still can taste
The awful awareness of bug misplaced.

These things are all over my house right now, and they're driving me crazy. Google tells me they're Boxelder bugs and they're generally harmless. But who wants bugs in their house—or in their food and drink?! For those wondering, I did spit it out and it was dead. I'm not sure if it drowned in my ginger ale or if I killed it.

OctPoWriMo 14 - Cheese

Today's prompt offered several quotes from poets past. I chose G.K. Chesterton: "Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese." I did actually write a trochaic tetrameter that mentions cheese before, but I decided to throw together another one today.

Cheese

I have written of cheese before;

I will write of cheese again:

Cheese and bacon—I want more!

Whoops! My diet’s down the drain.

Cheez Whiz? Never! Icky stuff.

All my dairy must be real.

Now I guess I’ve had enough,

Just until another meal.

Nightfall

Today is the first challenge for the Campaign over at Rach Writes. The challenge is to write something in 200 words or less starting with the line "Shadows crept across the wall." I chose to write a poem, as that is my first love in writing, and the genre I am most comfortable in. According to MS Word, it is 83 words (I usually write much shorter than required). It is written in trochaic tetrameter, if anyone cares. ;)

Nightfall

Shadows crept across the wall;
Anna watched the darkness fall.
Nothing could defend the light;
Nothing could stave off the night.
Yet she sat and watched the sky,
Watched the clouds drift slowly by
While the sun sank in the west
And the world went to its rest,
For she loved this time of day:
Nature’s colours turning grey,
People slowing down to sleep,
Praying God their souls to keep;
Setting sun may seem an end,
But she calls the night a friend.
-Esther Jones