how lengthy
is the time spent
between creations
of yours
while you are deep
within yourself
diving and drowning
and unable to function
until a spark of a thought
fires your synapses
and the light in your eyes
goes from ember to blaze
and you’re elated for days
and oh, your creations
they shine!
they sing!
they inspire the masses
to dance
and be glad
and they sing along
then listen
to your background music
as they read
or make love
and you
dive back
down to
your depths
Dry Landing
I knew there was something wrong when I arrived at my fiancee’s house and saw the feast laid out on the table. The rows of gleaming cars might have tipped me off, but I’d been so happy to get back home after two long years at sea that I didn’t notice. I’d wanted to surprise her. I was the one who ended up with the shock.
She was marrying another man. I deserted the navy for nothing.
This post is a combination of The Daily Post prompt, which today is Feast, and the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt by the lovely Stephanie, whose word of the week is Desert.
Frail
How frail is the bully on the inside? He who has likely gone through abuse unlike any most know, he who must release the pent-up energy that he’s unable to expound in the face of his own bully. Likely his parent.
Gently, I say,
understand the frightened child
as you take his punches
and then say unto him
as you bleed upon the ground,
“You are no better
than your own abuser,
asshole.”
drive, a haiku
driving happily
top down, wind in hair, I smile
between teeth, dead bugs
#SoCS – Unpredictable
If I wrote a story about you,
I would use words like “mystic” and “crazy.”
I would get a hand from the gods
because the gods are my friends.
I could choose a few anecdotes –
ones that would make people laugh.
I might bake a cake and call it you,
just so I can share you with my other friends.
If I clap my hands and you come running,
I will praise you, my friend, for that means you love me too.
I might circle the globe with you,
and we might just have fun.
Even though you’re afraid of heights
and I don’t need a plane to fly.
We could ride elephants and catch heffalumps:
it’s the Pooh thing to do.
And when we get home with all our treasures
we will place them on shelves and forget they exist.
If my enthusiasm for you dies,
I will probably die.
If I decide suddenly that I shan’t drive you to the airport when you need to go
(because that’s what friends do)
you might disown me, but I’d deserve it.
And if the water of my endless ocean of devotion for you dries up,
I will be left with a salty taste in my mouth.
But chances are that’s the worst case scenario,
because you’re as crazy as I am, and us crazies need to stick together.
If I wrote a story about you,
then it would definitely include me.
This is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday, because it’s totally stream of consciousness writing and it contains this week’s prompt, “if/then.”
This is part of The Daily Post because it was totally Unpredictable.
Nightmare Alley – 100 words
They say there are ghosts and goblins in Nightmare Alley, but I know different. Nightmare Alley is empty. Devoid of sound and light; even the walls are hard to find. But smell? Oh, there’s a lot of that going on. Dead things and garbage, feces and urine, all of it thinly masked by the sweet scent of mint.
Nightmare Alley is the place where men who have regrets go to die. It’s a dreamscape for the innocent who are eternally paying for their past lives. It’s the plague of the insomniac. It’s purgatory for the guilty who walk there forever.
pray
drunkenness heals not the pain
nor soothes the rage
for the dead and dying
but perhaps it dulls the sting
of the blaming tongue
and falls short
as does everything
for the sake
of the grieving mother
tomorrow shall we find sober thoughts
and calm solutions
for that which is senseless
in every way
One Bad Step
You may be wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today. Please, settle down–yes, you in the back! Calm down!–and allow me to explain.
No matter the length of the journey, whether it be an epic one or a trip to the corner store, each begins with a single step. As did mine. My epic journey began like any other. I awoke, brushed my teeth, and set out. I made it all the way to the car before I realized I had forgotten my car keys!
You in the back! I’m not going to tell you again! So I went back into the house for the keys, but the phone was ringing. I went to answer it in case it was important. Because you know, I was heading out on an epic, year-long journey! It turned out to be someone selling time-shares. Imagine that! So I hung up and off I went again.
I waited the proper time at the airport – got a coffee, that sort of thing. It wasn’t until it was time to head to the gate that I realized I’d put my plane ticket down when I ran to answer the phone!
So that is why I’m here, talking to you a mere three hours and forty-five minutes after I embarked on my epic year-long journey. I shall attempt to go again next month, and when I get to the secret location to which I’m going, I will purchase your gold, with the money you have entrusted to me, and return with it a year from the time I leave. Yes I know! The man in the back would like his money returned to him now, but I’m afraid…
What do you mean, you all want your money back? Hey! Get off me! I… ahh!!!
Captain’s Log – 12.07.16
O5:00 Awoke.
05:15 Found Midshipman Fluffy drinking milk in officer’s mess. I let it slide. Have yet to come up with a new title for Midshipman Fluffy.
05:30 At controls.
12:00 Broke for lunch. Left Midshipman Fluffy at controls. There seems to be a storm brewing.
12:25 Returned early to controls. Storm is gathering strength.
12:56 I’m not sure I can contain the ship. Midshipman Fluffy and I are both at the controls. I can tell my first mate is nervous.
13:06 Power out! Alert! Power is out!
13:45 The worst of the storm seems to be over. Peeled Midshipman Fluffy out from under the desk. Kittens sleeping soundly by my feet.
18:00 Broke for supper. Midshipman Fluffy seems to have recovered.
18:45 Returned to controls. Midshipman Fluffy has turned in with kittens for the evening.
22:00 Hitting berth. I will keep an eye over kittens while Midshipman Fluffy takes the helm for the night. Will make Midshipman Fluffy’s new rank a priority in the coming days.
Spelling Matters, a Limerick
There once was a young man named Rand
Who thought his desert rather bland
He yelled at the waiter
Who just wouldn’t cater
When Rand asked he take back the sand
Find The Daily Post prompt here.
Linda G. Hill 