'Redrum'A Poem by PeteA poem about a classic novel/movie.My name is Jack and I won't be back. I lost my wits in an ax attack. I went with the intention of working on my book. At a hotel by the name of the 'Overlook'. It was closed from October through May. That's when we had our murderous stay. My son would ride his trike round and round. It was over an old Indian burial ground. There was something wrong in room 237. It made our stay a hell instead of a heaven. When I went to that room I saw a beautiful lady. When I went downstairs I saw a waiter named Grady. Climbing out of the tub was a beautiful girl. Until our kiss brought death and the tub was a swirl. My son was chased by that ghost from the tub. I froze in a maze, next to a shrub. My son was mischievous and fell into a trance. I confronted my demons at a ballroom dance. I broke through a door, while in a craze. I chased after my son through a snowy, hedge maze. The hotel's 'Gold Room' was grand and tawny. I stuck my head through a door and yelled, 'Here's Johnny'. It was off-season and my writing was slow. I checked out in a deluge of deep, icy snow. I had imaginary chats with a bartender named LLoyd. Those conversations took place in a psychological void. The Grady girls horrified my son. They would keep reappearing until their playing was done. My wife knocked me unconscious with a baseball bat, She and my son then fled in a frozen snowcat. I trudged through the snow lacking agility. The chef and his grandmother had telepathic ability. My writing went unfinished not because I was lazy. I got sidetracked because I went stir-crazy. I typed and I typed with my fingertip. I filled the pages of that manuscript. Caretaker of that hotel was my employ; it's too bad that, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy". When we we left that hotel, there was no joy. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy". That hotel played with me like I was a toy. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy". An elevator door opened and there was a flood, But it wasn't from water; it was from blood. I grabbed an ax and took a swing. That's how it was written by Stephen King. They took that novel and made a flick. That work was done by Stanley Kubrick. I'm preserved in a photo dated 1921. That's how it ended; that's when it was done. Perhaps you think my title a bit awkward. That's only because it's murder spelled backward. I hope you found my writing designing, because I'm really not Jack, but this is 'The Shining' ...
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4 Reviews Added on December 14, 2016 Last Updated on December 16, 2016 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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