let’s slap together a wall
shall we?
build it out of pancakes
with sweet slippery syrup to hold it up
construct it out of love
and slurp it down
when we can’t keep our hands off each other
ah why build it anyway?
let’s go to bed hungry
and wake up full
Romance
Scorched
“Look! You’ve scorched the milk, Norman.”
“I’m sorry, Harriet my love. I don’t know what’s come over me today.”
“Do you think it’s got something to do with …you know?”
“It might, my love.”
“Oh, Norman. We did have a laugh though.”
“Hehe. Yes, yes we did.”
“Well then. What are we going to do with all this scorched milk?”
“Harriet, my love, why don’t you just pour it in the cat’s bowl? Give him a treat.”
“I s’pose I could, at that. We’ve had ours. Do you have any more of those pills left?”
“Harriet! You’re not thinking about that now, are you?”
“Why not? Let’s go scorch the sheets.”
“All right, then.”
Creamy trois – seven months later
(Part two: Creamy too – 100 words)
“Hey man, long time no see! What’s new with you?”
“Oh, you know. Finished college. I’m engaged.”
“Right on. Who’re you marrying?”
“Remember that ‘creamy’ chick?”
“No! So she didn’t impale you after all?”
“Oh yeah, she did. But after that she agreed to swap her collection of stuffed heads for a trailer.”
“So now you’re…”
“Getting hitched.”
_________________________________________
(For Joey. 🙂 )
flames
there’s something purely distinct
about fire, isn’t there?
how it silkenly licks and caresses
its victim until
it no longer exists as it was
but it succumbs so gently
like a lover accepting
her very last kiss
unable to bring to memory
the one before
This poem was written in Stream of Consciousness. Click the link to join in the prompt, which this week is “mem”: https://lindaghill.com/2016/11/11/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-1216/
It was also prompted by the Daily Post. The word of the day, Flames.
melt
i arise with a sigh
leave you lying in bed
trip to the kitchen
start up the perc-drip
curl up on the sofa
knees to chest
sweet dreams of last night
of your breath on my lips
weight of your body
slip into heat-thoughts
and
coffee…
back to the kitchen
on a cloud of contentment
pour rich black pleasure
and my cup melts
with desire sips
may this morning
never end
No Trust
Lisa had been led to believe that when her ailing rich uncle finally passed away, she would receive a trust fund until she reached the age of twenty-five. Whether it was because he died before he had a chance to place a restriction on her inheritance, or he never meant to in the first place, would never be known. All Lisa DID know was that in the space of a day she’d gone from packing her work lunches in brown paper bags, to being able to quit her job and live in luxury.
Although walking away from the daily grind at the office was tempting, she decided not to. Instead, she kept her job and bought a house on the posh side of town. Right next door to Roland, the flashiest, most eligible bachelor within a hundred miles. In Lisa’s opinion, it was the only drawback of the whole deal.
Author’s note: Until October the 31st, I’m going to try to use this space to create possible beginnings for my 2016 NaNoWriMo project. In the tags below, you’ll see the genre I’m considering for the above story. Feedback is welcome.
Fire
It started and ended with a candle. If foresight had told me you’d burn down the house on my thirty-first birthday, would I have fallen for you that fateful night at Stella’s Steakhouse and Grill?
Just the fact that we ever got together was a miracle. My date–Lester? Leonard? I can never remember his name–and I were sitting by the window and you and whats-her-name were across the aisle. All through dinner I admired your profile in the candlelight. When you weren’t turning to gawk at me, that is. I recall feeling so sorry for her. She noticed the attraction between us. Lestard was oblivious.
It wasn’t until later that night as we walked along the boardwalk in the moonlight, hand-in-hand, that you told me you’d been on a blind date. I lied. The fact that I was engaged to a guy whose name escapes me tells me even now that you and I were meant to be. For whatever reason.
Author’s note: Until October the 31st, I’m going to try to use this space to create possible beginnings for my 2016 NaNoWriMo project. Feedback is welcome.
Creation
Tired of waiting, for you
(whoever you are)
to come into my life,
I shall create you.
I will knit for you, a cape
(made of feathers)
to drape upon your shoulders,
to give you form.
I will dream for you, a castle
(with a dragon)
so that you may rescue me,
and kiss me awake.
I will sing for you, a song
(full of love)
to rouse you into dance,
so that you may hold me.
I will bake for you, a feast
(of drool-worthy delectables)
and get you drunk on wine,
and whisk you away.
Ah, but to knit, a cape
(castle, song, feast)
for a love such as yours,
is a labour of a lifetime
yet unfinished
dilemma
how to string together
the words to convey
how much i love you?
my goal
to linger like the fragrance a strawberry
you carry upon your breath all the day
my hope
to pervade your thoughts
much the same as
the ocean’s waves break relentlessly on the sand
my dilemma
to find a way to let you know
i exist
Linda G. Hill 