Month: Nov 2018
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Nudge #23
A Storm It’s a storm in the teapot. Not a cup; it’s a proper pot. With a spout, and a snug-fitting top to keep a lid on it all. That pot is a simmering swamp. Like a ship on the horizon that defines what you can’t see. Or rainwater that’s not safe to drink. Like…
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Nudge #18
A Poem Starting with a Line by Lee Herrick This one happens in the morning as a nearby crow wakes me. Chips of memory keep rising to the surface, as if there’s some small bit in me, you know, like an overly excited egg timer proclaiming This Is The End, like Jim Morrison sang. You…
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Nudge #16
This Is Mr H Ellis His head. Fedora, middle creased, ribbon band, wide brim as level as a plate. Although it shades the eyes, nothing hides from what he sees. What he thinks. Wears. White shirt, collar stiff, buttoned up. Keeps ones chin erect, chin up, pal, no looking down at your shoes. Although looking…
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Twiglet #102
Winter Quiet We build our little fires to warm the winter, strange captives to the unmoving sun. It settles thin and permanent as a stain. We didn’t know these days were a soft psalm. Twiglet #102 “We Didn’t Know”
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Nudge #14
Toujours Toujours this body is of a long time, it’s forgotten my ups. my downs. I sing from sleep, and eye an oyster moon, trifle with clouds that follow the sky on padded paws. a freedom I never forget. toujours. toujours. Remixed from the Song of Mehitabel (changed feet to paws) Nudge #14…
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Nudge #13
Milk, No Sugar, Thank You I manage from one cup of tea to the next – white, no sugar, thank you, but for me it’s too late to accidentally unintentionally learn to knit or crochet or take up macramé or any other of those eh or may words. Nudge #13
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Nudge #12
Burning Up and Up I recall blue smoke rising like a genie from my cigarette. Catching the tide of air, lazing on an invisible byway. Curling down the hallway, up the stairs, up and up, and burning my future into a barren dessert. Two prompts combined. Nudge #12 Choose a myth, a fable,…
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Nudge #11
Locked Out Not here. Not there. Not where I thought they should be. Keys. Oh, keys. Oh please. On bended knees. Where the hell are you. https://imprompt.wordpress.com/2018/11/11/november-nudge-11/
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Nudge #10 & #11
A View From a Chair A view from his chair, distant mountains of driftwood hue. Well-wishing cards on the dressing table, and a white-bone pipe, well used and still warm. A flower. Red. In a vase. The air scented gay as a carousel horse. A note on his pillow reads stone-tile-cold. Miz Quickly’s…
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Day 8: Hints of Something
Untitled She carried scent like a flower, as if garlands hung from her long slender neck. And she always carried a hankie – embroidered them with four-leaf clovers. Some with round red knots that looked like ripe apples. And she wore the same Harris tweed coat for years. It out lived her. NovPAD…
It's Still Life 