Category: Uncategorized

Washing the World

Image falling into the rain by Moonlight-Rainstorm on Deviant Art
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/05/23/weekend-writing-prompt-158-downpour/
Use the word downpour and create a poem or prose piece in exactly 88 words.  

 

It does begin with whispers of wind,

Steady, slow rhythm of fattened rain drops.

The distant rumbles begin.

Then the slight, quick flashing starts.

Soon the wind howls.

The rain beats as if a beast

Against the windows.

The rumbles, the shouting of an angry God

At the petulant child of a world.

The flashing, the cracking whip

Of our forgotten master.

The downpour is here,

The sobbing of the forgotten,

The hated, the poor,

The ones we were to love.

No ark on this horizon is seen.

The Spider’s Life

Image from Sue Vincent Thursday Photo Prompt

https://scvincent.com/2020/05/21/thursday-photo-prompt-painted-writephoto/

This week’s prompt ~ Painted

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a rather oriental red bridge over a  pool covered with waterlilies and surrounded by trees.

She lived a painted life.

Careful with her brushes

Always touching up

A chip, a mark, a ragged flaw

As she found them.

If she found a rip or tear

In the precious canvas,

It just would not do,

But she would oh, so carefully

Apply the much-needed glue.

No.  Not a single person could tell.

Not a single person knew.

 

No one knew the time

And care and money

She spent on this

Carefully painted life–

Of verdant grasses,

Irises of every shade

Deepest purples

To palest pinks,

The lush canna lilies,

Fragrant gardenias and lilacs,

The splendor of magnolias,

The stately cedars.

 

Everyone speaks of a gentle stateliness,

In the air of her personal dress,

Her blonde locks, and her wounded blue eyes

As they looked out

Upon the careful paint of her garden lair,

A spider inspecting her web.

But her victims knew

Of every rip and tear

And all the rot beneath the paint.

For her victims lay silent, faint

Cocooned beneath

Many coats of paint.

 

Words for You

image courtesy opmat.org.au

VJ’s Weekly Challenge #96: circling

 

Circle through the years of youth

Find the gems along the streams

Of your years, my love.

Collect them in a basket,

Keep them close.

When the time comes

Give each away to your

Young ones.

Make each a gift,

Tied with ribbons

Of what you dream

And all of your

Wishes

For them.

As I have given

All my words

As a gift

Tied with ribbons

Of my dream

Of love

And my wish

Of happiness

For you,

My love,

My gift,

My daughter.

Walking to Race Point

Race Point Lighthouse Sunset Photograph by John Burk

Sleeplessness always told the story

between the back when and now,

what she once thought a game,

tracks leading nowhere.

This last section of living

something not well lived.

A swirl of memory

piercing through knots

too tight to be undone.

She had lived without a plan,

having a heart that spoke in tongues

she had yet to understand.

Fade

image from pommitravels.com
Written in response to the word prompt with the restriction of using exactly 17 words

Weekend Writing Prompt #157 – Fade

 

Hours pour steadily,

prattling into darkness,

groping for light.

Your ghost

drains life colorless

from my soul.

    Dance

    https://scvincent.com/2020/05/14/thursday-photo-prompt-dance-writephoto/

    This week’s prompt ~ Dance

    For visually challenged writers, the image shows a pale sun piercing the mists above a green path through a golden field, leading into the center of a circle of stones.

    A mist of souls weaves among the stones

    A dance between grasses of green and gold

    Breezes chant in ancient secret runes,

    Speaking in tongues of priestesses and druids–

    A single soul leaps toward a shrouded sun,

    And something in our blood no longer runs—

    At all fluid.

    Tone Deaf

    image courtesy of Etsy.com
    Written as a response to the following prompt:
    https://amanpan.com/2020/05/11/eugis-weekly-prompt-harmony-may-11-2020/

    Harmony never made sense to me
    And neither did melody.
    Can’t tell the difference, you see.
    No talent with any instrument.
    A singing voice that’d send me
    To some lower level of hell.
    Well, I’d never play Orpheus,
    That’s for sure.
    And no matter what you may think,
    You ain’t some worthy Eurydice.






     

    Every Rose

    In breaking silence,

    earth and sky kiss again.

    At a toast of mid-day,

    the moon shows her face,

    a smile of grace.

    In the glimmer of a star’s dance,

    a thorn on dried roses prick,

    a reminder of circumstance.

    Sweeter Morning

    image courtesy of The View from Great Island

    Warm now on the edge of summer.

    Still, I shiver gathering coffee to my lips.

    I war with the craving for a cigarette.

    When I take the morning deep into my chest,

    The air lacks nicotine.

    Years since I kicked that habit,

    Yet some mornings it does seem

    Nothing could be finer

    Than caffeine and nicotine—

    But it would not be you and me

    Starting our day outside on the covered patio,

    Watching for butterflies,

    Drinking our coffee and smoking our cigarettes,

    Dreams drifting in clouds of nicotine and steam.

    Fine tune

    Tuning Fork in Water #1 courtesy of KaroAntonyan
    Written in response to Weekend Writing Prompt #155 
    “Tune”
    This weekend your challenge is to write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 10 words.
    Sammiscribble.wordpress.com

    Use a tuning fork,

    Fine tune this old tone-deaf heart.