As much as I fear looking back at my former life, I look forward with alarm. The direction in which I travel is dark and inhumane. My course may lead to the end of the world as I know it. My only consolation is that I’m alone on the planet.
“Saga” is the word of the day at The Daily Post.
“You can only survive for twenty-four hours without a drink.”
“Nuh-uh! You’ll die in fif… I mean twelve.”
“Nuh-uh! My dad told me it was a whole day!”
“Wanna bet?”
“Sure!”
“Okay. Don’t have a drink for the rest of the day and see if you wake up tomorrow.”
“…I’m thirsty.”
“Me too. Let’s go to my place. My mom made Kool-Aid.”
Mustn’t you leave,
Just get out
to arrive somewhere else
a place where you’re wanted
The rattling cages
must be driving you mad
and the animals speak now
they whisper, escape
I’m the voice in your head, dear
Don’t try to resist
for the more you agree
The sooner you’ll return
And you’d like that
Wouldn’t you?
Mais oui
…
zzz Me? It wasn’t
This post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the link and join in today! http://lindaghill.com/2016/02/19/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-feb-2016/
Maybe it’s my lack of penmanship that lost me the girl. Yeah, it was a one night stand, but I really liked her. All I wrote was, “Best of luck ever! Don’t forget shut, lock door on your way out!” And now she’s accusing me of calling her a slut.
This post is brought to you by Tuesday Use It In A Sentence. This week the host is Kelli at Forty, c’est Fantastique! and the word of the week is “penmanship.”
each morning at seven
she enters my store
and I watch as she
fingers the cherries
with her long blood-red nails
and her lips glistening the colour of wine
and her miles of stockinged legs
in scarlet stilettos
and I swear to myself
that one day I will
step up like a man
like the man that I am
and tell her
…
I love her
…
and I’ll love her even more
if
she’ll stop playing with my cherries
and play with my grapes
instead.
Stream of Consciousness Saturday – find it here.
When I love myself
much too much
it hurts
everyone else it seems.
For all of them want,
Me Me
Me Me
they call out
and I answer but
as the days go on
my reply gets weaker.
I need to love
me.
This post is brought to you by The Bee’s month-long prompt, Love Is In Da Blog! Click here to see the rules and join in!
I can’t believe it. It was so clumsy. I just wanted to ask her out but… I should have known not to approach her in the cafeteria. First there was the tomato soup, then the poutine… Now she’ll never date me. I shouldn’t have asked her to apologize. Dumb ass.
It’s Just Jot It January! Click here for the final post!
Antoinette Ant thought to write an anthology. Her fellow ants told her, “You can’t do that! You’re just an ant!” But Antoinette replied, “Ah, but I am a French ant! And I am also the Aunt of the King!”
So Antoinette bought a typewriter. She wrote of feats unheard of, where gallant ant warriors heaved seeds, and dead wasps that wouldn’t even fit through the door of the castle, and rocks the size of pebbles to build the greatest homes in the land. And then she sent her anthology off to be published.
And she waited.
And she waited.
Until one day Antoinette heard back from a publishing house that was interested… in her warriors. For a cat had knocked down their house.
The “an-” prompt is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click here to join in today!
And also running right now is Just Jot It January! Click to join in any time!
Your ghost haunts me, even now. I lay here searching the stars for the one that might be you, the cold ground beneath me, surrounding me; I know you are beside me. The first shovelful of dirt hits my chest and I wonder, why are they burying me at night?
It’s Just Jot It January! Click here and join in any time!
Ideas drip down
Like serendipity from the heavens
Of what you might look like
When I finally set eyes
On a scrap of your coat
Or the cut of your jeans
Should a glimpse of the back of your head
In a crowd
Light my nerves
Make me run to catch up
To find
The ring on your finger
third from the thumb
and so
I’ll keep waiting
For drips of serendipity
‘Til I die.
It’s Just Jot It January! Click here and join in any time!
Linda G. Hill 