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POETRY BY L.D. JORDAN

JORDAN

L.D. Jordan is a seasoned writer who has worked in various creative arenas over time, often writing under pen names for the fun of it and perhaps a tad of introversion. Well, maybe more than a tad.

Her writing style is just as broad as her experiences. Though she writes across genres, she has always written horror pieces. Like her life, her writing is based on the now. For her, this year brings new things including the name which she has indefinitely decided to stick with for a change.

She is an active member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA) and affiliated with a fun band of misfits through Moanaria’s Fright Club. L.D. Jordan has earned several degrees, including an MFA in Creative Writing, but has found that being a student of life is her greatest source of learning. She is North Carolina-born, California-raised, New York-affiliated, and PR-connected, but settled in coastal NC. Aside from writing, her greatest joy has been mothering two sons and being a devoted wife. All three, are amazing gifts who have been a true source of growth and inspired living. 

 

THE HORRORS OF LIFE

Oh, the horrors of life.
How often they creep upon us
Taking us down to our knees.
How often they crush our hearts.
Each instance pushes us to the brink.
How often they fracture our minds.
Only a fine line keeps us from harming.
Restless, we think ourselves into oblivion.
Restless, solutions escape us.
Only a fine line keeps us from harming.
Rationality can most frighteningly be a fleeting thing.

THE BEAST OF BLANDENBORO

The night was filled with wailing sounds
upon the discovery of headless hounds
disturbingly left in pools of liquid life
after being embroiled in unfathomable strife.
Ms. Anne, who had witnessed it all,
stood before the horrified crowd at the town hall
to tell the tale that many would not believe.
They thought surely her aim was to deceive.
She described a hulking man-like beast,
sleek yet furry with fangs for teeth
and warned them it was now the end of days
because the bible has foretold it this way.
The news reporters shared it nationwide.
An evening curfew was set for all to stay inside.
Hundreds of men from neighboring counties were sent.
With fear and bravery, to the swamps, they went.
The Beast of Bladenboro continued to show its face,
leaving more blood and savagery with each new case.
Animal after animal was found mangled, as if hit by a train,
but the greatest dread set in when a human was slain.
No man or beast was found, and the Police Chief was weary.
He shot a bobcat to give the people rest and a new theory
that it was only a hungry animal causing the gore.
Deep down inside he knew it was something more.
Many years went by with no captures or claims.
The deep dark secret of the town remains.
How did the beast get there and when will it die?
Some say it was born of experiments with turpentine.
Whatever the reason, beware, it still lurks in the trees.
Take care not to cross it, or you may be the next to bleed.

DANCING WITH MADNESS

I dance with Madness and we no longer sleep. 
He whispers unsavory somethings in my ear.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

I know what I sow I’ll reap.
Yet, I kept the trophy near.
I dance with Madness and we no longer sleep. 

I couldn’t believe no one heard a peep. 
The garotte pulled tight, his face frozen in fear.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

From several breaths to none, sawed limbs lay in a heap.
The reporters called me Mantis, noticing the lipstick smear.
I dance with Madness and we no longer sleep.

DNA, a dead giveaway, because he liked me looking cheap.
My mistakes took me from mastermind to Rookie of the Year.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.

I went to the rooftop and considered taking that leap.
Dizzied, I ran off, instead hoping to disappear.
In a new place, I dance with Madness and we no longer sleep. 
Abused no longer; I pray the Lord my soul to keep.