Alexa, what's an "epigram?"

Today's prompt. I'll be working with this pool of words: 

Bright-Smooth-Silent-Rancid-Smoke-House-Quarry-Boat-Fly-Blow

_________________________________________________

I. 

A duck indeed may float,

but no joy on this boat

for the supposed occultist

the haggard villagers smote.

II. 

The chase began late - quick was the quarry,

but darkness would never hinder a hunter,

nor temper his hunger for glory. 

III. 

They called his poor attitude rancid, 

none he called upon ever enchanted, 

but try as he might, no matter the fight, 

a great victory surely was granted. 

IV. 

In all the woods, smoke - 

and so the great earth squeezed out

it's last breath, to choke. 

V. 

Sleight of hand, incite demand, 

what shade may hide, reveal inside, 

a spell of luck, let fate untuck

bright fortune wide; delight applied. 

VI. 

No more echoes inhabit this house,

incense burnt, water sprinkled, and such - 

but skitter still does the scavenging mouse, 

she's never put faith in these, much. 

VII. 

Violent were the waves pursuing

escapees dozing at the helm, 

silent dreamers drowning soon. 

VIII. 

What else may fly, unsuppressed

by the wet heat of midday in July? 

The quintessential, the stereotypical, 

and the frog's late and echoing cry. 

IX. 

The stone was smooth - it cooled his touch, 

but what still burned, it never could soothe. 

X. 

Begin the show - those in the know

return the favor before the blow

may even land. So rouse the band, 

and send the offender to hell below. 

Is this better?

Hammer

and chisel, 

a great giving-way, 

and then, 

the trauma of creation,

born again

and delivered

unto nonbelievers.

Router bits

and dull blades

reciprocate, 

blood is strewn

into art, and eyes

embrace the enlivening

brutality 

of renovation. 

An ode to the ants in my entryway

It is,

by all metrics, 

a most 

ineffective 

invasion. 

Waves of three

or four

obsidian intruders, 

specks

among specks - 

indistinguishable

from tiny rocks

and dirt

tracked in

on shoes and 

paws, 

but for

the scurrying.

Drawn

by some

imperceptible 

lure, ignorant 

to danger, 

infiltrators

find the

tiniest

weakness and

exploit it. 

But

bravery, 

even most

stout, 

ruptures

under the

weight 

of a shoe. 

Wish you were here

I hope this finds you well. 

It has been raining

on and off,

it seems, for weeks. 

And even before, 

finding a dry spot

was no meager feat.

Things have not

been the same lately - 

it is no secret -

and the ebb and flow

of critical mass

has left me exhausted. 

I hope to enjoy a taste

of warmer weather, soon. 

I hope to hear 

another voice, different

than this one

you've been using, 

worn down, each morning. 

All my best to you. 

The flow of water

Go and travel upon any path

that has been made free to you - 

the most meager, timid crack,

or the roaring, blatant chasm. 

If all gravity leads to an ocean, 

then let there be no tribulation 

to any who has learned to speak

humility in the course of the fall. 

One-man wrecking crew

Sometimes peer pressure is nice. 

Sometimes it drives you to use your brain for new (old) things. 

National Poetry Writing Month, take 14. 

_________________________________________________

Please, step back - this area is unsafe

for any who suffer from even the most basic

lack of imagination. 

We've judiciously applied caution tape

and all manner of hi-vis paraphernalia

to adequately broadcast this. 

Bricks and drywall are no match

for a breach of this description - 

instead we delve straight to the source. 

You, there, sir! Are you the author?

Are you responsible for this

egregious, and frankly, unnecessary

deviation 

        in 

                style?

Please don't resist, trust our expertise - 

we've dealt with your kind before. 

You're too dangerous to continue. 

The public must be warned; containment

is a wasted effort at this point. 

Three walls will just have to do.