Monthly Archives: January 2012

Oblivious

Shawna at Rosemary Mint challenges us this week with these words: carom, pygmy, glistening, spry, chalet, electric, sprig, aver, callow, manic.

 

Chalet di Montagna

Image by kenyai via Flickr

Thundersnow
caroms through the valley,
electric explosions echo
off mountain sides
littered with pygmy
sprigs of early spring.
Spry lightning dances the cloud-tops,
layers of white silence falls below,
covering the hidden chalet
where youth races in callow,
manic urgency to aver its vows –
glistening skin, melting sighs,
the only storm they know.

 

2 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

Flash Fiction

A couple of more offerings for Flashy Fiction. Check them out for some great prompts.

Trapped

 

It was all an evil plot to driver her mad. She hated all of it; being inside, parading around in a dress, getting pictures taken, old aunts hugging her close, ugh. Being inside though, that was the worst.

Right now there were three boys outside (and one mangy yellow cur of a dog) wondering where she was. They were supposed to be going to the creek today; everything was planned. Jimmy and Bobby were bringing the poles, Sam had the bait and she had the net. If she did not get out of here quick they would leave without her.

Her mother had not told her about this little family get together after church. It had to have been on purpose, knowing she would have snuck off otherwise. Now she was trapped. Father had caught her three times trying to get out a door. Each time he just smiled and headed her back into the gauntlet.

She stood for the picture, even smiled, in the hopes that it would serve as penance and get her released. But it was too late; she had seen them through the window heading down the walk out of town. Bobby had looked back once and the dog kept stopping and sniffing the air, like he was trying to find her.

She settled into the chair in the corner of the room, hoping to be unnoticed. She stared, transfixed, as the room began to change around her. Trees came into focus in the living room and there was a stream where the kitchen was. The door beside the fireplace melted into the garden gate and the sounds of the woods filled her ears.

Her father watched her as she dozed off in the chair, wondering about the playful smile on her sunburned face.

 

A Night Out

 

“Wake up! C’mon, let’s go. Need to be movin’ on.”

“What? Oh, damn!”

“Yea, I’m guessing that bright light smarts, don’t it. Get on your feet, pal. I don’t want to be bothered with running you in, but I can’t just leave you here either.”

“Um, yea. Where…?”

“Man, that must have been some night. Been a lot of years since I pulled one of those. Heard the Red Horse will do that to you. Crazy place.”

“The Red Horse? Yea, that sounds familiar. How did you …?”

“Stamp is right there on the back of your hand, son. Kind of hard to miss.”

“Oh, yea. So it is. Where am I?”

“Seventeenth Street, between Downing and West Auburn. Lucky you picked this stairwell too. This place is abandoned. If you had tried to sleep it off one over from here and that little oriental woman would have beat the hell out of you with her broom.”

“No, would not have wanted that. Oh, boy.”

“Steady there, hold on to the wall. Not sure how you got down here without killing yourself. Maybe you do need a few hours in the drunk tank.”

“No, no, I’m good. Just need a cab and a shower. Maybe some coffee.”

“HAHA, I’ll bet. A few aspirin, too. All right, pal. You seem to be harmless. Head on home. Just remember that Atlanta’s finest let you off when the FOP collection guy comes around.”

“Atlanta?”

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Filed under Creative writing, Flash Fiction, Free Write, Short Story

drops of red

For The Mag prompt of the below photo.

tears –

like drops of red

escaping the

brush

to fall without meaning

on abstract painting –

mingle with the salt

scattered

on the bevnap.

scent of lime

infuses fingers

while the

tequila

speaks its warning

in a language

few

ever

master.

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Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

The Sunday Whirl Wordle

The challenge this week is to use the following words in a Poem. Born, feet, earth, fresh, frozen, serenity, flame, anguish, shocks, field, startles, permeable.

 

Home

 

The fresh earth of the field

returns his serenity –

to work the soil, broken at

his feet,

a flame to his

frozen thoughts,

a salve to

anguished heart.

 

Born to this land,

restored by circumstance;

a plowed row

startles

memory that

shocks his

permeable soul –

tears irrigate a

new life.

 

13 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

kissing the ceiling

Response to the We Write Poems photo prompt.

he slept while
she dreamed,
restless outside
of his thoughts.

he slept while
she roamed,
breaking chains
of indifference.

he slept while
she searched,
spread her arms
embraced the sky.

he slept while
she learned to fly.

Posted to dVerse Poets.

11 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

Catching (up on) Stones

Jan 25

Proverbial ear-to-ear grin,

proud of the hard earned test grade

and the praise of pride-full parents.

 

Jan 26

The puppy (biggest already of three dogs),

less concerned with her ‘business’,

or even the food in the bowl,

as she is with giving and

receiving affection.

Perhaps we ….

Need I even ask the question?

1 Comment

Filed under Poetry, River of Stones

Positive Mental Attitude

The Attitude of Observation

Days of winter           rain

        have       dampened

earth               mood

            energy                                    motivation.

The dwarf maple stands

branches        bent

in a pool of

                        discarded

             foliage.

Rain clings to every

barren                                    limb

      shimmering    stand-ins   for

each     cast      off      decoration.

Arrogant ravens claim the

            air,

ignore the rain

in their

                                                scavenging.

No omen do I perceive –

but a refusal to be

                        deterred,

as if they still

            gather                         for       Ellijay.

Night brings a

            forced             quiet

of         weighted        fog

interspersed with

muted             musical

droplets

            falling

                        among

veiled

                                  trees.

Process Notes (which i do not normally do): an experiment, trying to control mood and flow with structure and spacing with minimal punctuation. Centering it was the only way I could come close to the formatting I was trying to accomplish; and it still will not give me the spacing I wanted between stanzas. Also trying for something close to Imagism as a style. Let me know if it works!

Posted to dVerse poets open link night.

18 Comments

Filed under Poetry