A Poem for my Daughter

For My Daughter, Before



A little girl has got it hard
as pressure mounts to leave her scarred
Stomach clenched, with tightened jaws
She tries so hard to hide her flaws
But what if she could only see
the way God meant for her to be
with beauty hidden deep within
Not found in clothing, hair, nor skin
A vibrant life, a call to live
with blessings rich and love to give
A waiting hope, a heart of flame,
The precious gift in girls contained
© 2008 Karl Becker

A Zombie Sonnet

Backyard Zombie Horror
My soccer ball flew o’er the neighbor’s fence.
Alarmed, I followed quickly in pursuit.
By my trespass I meant no offense,
My imprint on his yard would be minute.
Into the padded sod I deftly leapt
To where no soccer ball appeared to be.
Under a sickly hemlock tree I crept
Believing underneath it I might see.
Instead a hand, with hanging flesh, outreached
And clamped upon my wrist with clasping claws
To drag me terror-stricken from my feet
And draw me, writhing, to its gruesome jaws.
     Thus with its venom my blood was imbued
     A monstrous afterlife begins anew.
                          
                             © 2010 Karl Becker

A Zombie Quatrain

Zombie Conversion – A Quatrain Poem by Karl Becker

A telltale sound pursues me as

I trip along the passageway

A shambling, scuffing raspiness

that chills and turns my nerves to fray

Slowly pursued by too many to count
A terror that sours my stomach with bile
I turn unprepared, yet determined to mount
an offense that will purchase some distance, some miles
Yet my turnabout yields only one or two kills
as my weapon misfires, then refuses to work
I drop it and run, bitter agony spills
from my throat as I scream, my horror uncorked
To my wrist is attached a revenant dead
By his teeth which have given me that which I fled
My fate is now sealed, the infection is spread
No longer I run as my deep wound is bled
My systems arresting, my heart skips a beat
A gradual stillness its progress complete
This death of undeath, a looking glass life
Autonomous ambulant primitive strife
My one aim to feed on the living remains
Of that elusive essence that Mankind retains
Society gone, universe to myself
I wander the earth overflowing from hell