Posted in Flashes, Thought Food

Not Again!

 

The house began to twitch

Became a pile of sticks

The wind no friend

To help it mend

But brought it to its end

An unhealthy situation

For

All there my friend

 

They should have known

Why did they build

The house right there

In that same spot

Hadn’t anyone learned

Well I guess not

 

The house began to twitch…

 

 

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10100271598467063&set=a.646768678993.2113163.77202683&type=1&theater

not Again Kansas

 

The Prompt: A photograph taken by Thomas Zimmerman – Grinnell, Kansas City on 27th May.

 

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#156

 

https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/06/22/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week156-2/

 

 

Posted in Fiction & Poetry

Maybe A Margarita

 

As time passes

What do I think?

Nothing much

Is life on the brink?

The brink of what I say

One foot in the grave

The other with a banana peel in the way

 

Not at all

 

Feeling it, no

I look at this after a couple days

And think nothing yet

So I’ll leave it sit

Maybe tomorrow

Some thoughts come through

The word count 65

 

Enough yet

 

To keep it alive

Space to reach 100 still

One way or another I will

Check again for fun

14 left

As time passed by

I did give it a try

 

 

100wcgu-7

https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/06/15/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week155-2/

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#155

The prompt this go round: … “as time passes”…

Posted in Fiction & Poetry

I Was Listening To Frank

 

All the things I could be

All my choices from life that tree

Pick a plum and see

 

I reached yes I did

I picked the fruit

But it withered and turned to dust

 

Yet I picked again never doubting a minute

It shriveled once more

Undaunted I chose

 

Again and again

My tree of life bloomed

More opportunity to choose

 

Here I am

It’s Autumn for me that age

My heart carries on still young

 

Yet life still blooms

I pick another plum

Will this be the one?

 

Though some weren’t for me

With this one we’ll see

Through struggle sometimes pain

 

What’s left in store

 

 

Posted in Fiction & Poetry

Saturday

 

Tornado today

Who knew?

I heard a bzz-bzz-bzz coming from a source

Which one?

I say in passing

Our cells comes the reply

We have a warning I ask

Listen

There the sirens go

 

Oh

 

The complex manager calls

Come to the shelter

We have a shelter she asks

A quick description

Get your asses down the retort

Ok then

Grab the raincoats

But I don’t have one as rain pelts

On the list to do

 

I will

 

A Lightening McQueen umbrella

This small

Get a real pair of shoes no flip-flops

She growls

I look, take the cell, the iPad

Should I grab any more?

Hasn’t touched down on us yet

But five miles out

I breathe a prayer of protection

 

Over the laptop

 

Move it from the window to a safe spot

Watch over the power cords amen

Do we have keys I say voice clear

Yup

Ok we’re out

We walk in the rain

Our landlady scowls

Get in hurry up

Yes Ma’am

 

A room full of people

Many no shoes

All with cells watching the storm

What does the radar say?

As the second siren sounds

More people come

Watch until six as the Tablet comes out

And a child plays

Snacks passed around

 

Good thinking – ok

 

Jokes about Twister

No need for concern or worry

Strap yourself to a pipe

After running through farm knifes

Used for hacking

The Tornado lifts legs easy now

All appendages stay

As you look up the center swirl

Wow, get a load of that

 

Laughter while we wait

 

Now it’s taken a turn

Northwest

That’s moving away over there

We get up to get going

The storm’s passed

We wander back

Get into cars check on those we like

Go get the mail

The dishwasher started

 

The laundry too

 

Though first I wanted to put down a few words

So inspired that I was

For you

How’s your Saturday so far?

I’m getting back to my movie

Lie down and chill

Get a bottle of water

I bought earlier today

When the sun shone

 

Good thing we cancelled the carwash

Raise those funds a less volatile day

 

Posted in Fiction & Poetry

I Was Just Up Early

 

Dead tired from the heat

I passed out

After the salad of my dreams

I concocted as I walked

And an ice cold Martini

With an onion, no olive

To my grandfather, ‘salute!’

I miss you

Rest in Peace

 

Out came the bedroll

After brushing my teeth

And a wet rag on my face

Wipe perspiration sweat away

Refreshed enough

Turn on a classic

Bing and Frank

Louie and Grace

Celeste too

 

Scuffle between mother and son

Let him finish it tomorrow mumbling fade

She agreed crankily

Opened eyes heard his breathing

The time no one knew

Darkness wrapped its arms

Away I sink

Just before dawn

I wake

 

Here I sit in a silence almost deafening

When air conditioning doesn’t kick in

It’s been a while since we’ve been together

Old friend peace

And we’ve written about nothing at all

Really, nothing

Before the start of the day

Will I lie back and give the alarm a chance

No pressing tasks to do not yet – couldn’t say

 

Overcome I yawn

Thoughts fade away

 

Posted in Books & Stories

Separated And In Love

Franco started to spend more and more time at the apartment. When I would come home in the evenings it was dark, quiet like no one was there, but then he’d burst out of her room in a hurry to get his beloved a sandwich before the bars all closed. Beatriz would just lounge in bed waiting. Sometimes he’d pass me at the metro, leaping, bounding down escalator stairs, determined, the passionate lover on his mission. He’d notice me and shoot a helpless, “you know she always asks for a sandwich at the worst time” look. I’d nod back acknowledgeing his plight with a kindly sardonic, “you poor guy” look while I couldn’t help wondering about their relationship. When I’d return home after a morning of teaching the two of them’d just be getting up walking around in their bathrobes. Smoking was confined to the bedroom although the smell was now stronger telling me he was there. “Well, as long as they keep it in the bedroom”. Nope, not going to happen.

Posted in Books & Stories

Walking Silently On Autumn Leaves

 

 

Miggs sat back and looked over the text. She’d taken care of the mechanics, those things a writer has to do correctly or the layout won’t come out right for an eBook although it does work out better for a book in print. Still, she knew she’d have to read it over to make sure it followed. Who knows what else could occur to her as she read. Then there were her notes, those things she’d jot down in a small notebook as they occurred to her, different events, little things from life in general, side stories all that were aligning into some form of outline of things she wanted to include and, the big and, how exactly did she want this book to turn out? She wasn’t sure yet still doubting her ability to write pure fiction. Just because that Jung Test that categorized her as a bulwark of strength CEO that should steer away from fiction said so, there was no reason to swallow it hook, line and sinker. It’s like a horoscope, especially when you share two signs because you were born on a cusp. Not all the characteristics are you. Miggs thought of her Indian friend who turned out to not be much of a friend after she’d gone through all her books checking out Miggs characteristics, moons, and whatever else then flipping out as if Miggs was going to turn into some kind of monster. She’d read them over and told her friend “no, this isn’t me… I wouldn’t do that” but her friend packed up her family and took them back to the reservation.

“I wonder what I was supposed to become. Having horns and a long pointy tail, would be uncomfortable.” Miggs was becoming fatigued from writing. She decided to do her few yoga stretches and see how everything looked in the morning. “I’m developing quite a collection of poems – I wonder if I shouldn’t put them together into another book. Ah, who’d want to read it anyway?” On that note she went to bed. As soon as she got comfortable, she had to get up one last time. Making her way back to her room she thought about something she’d read from another author who’d exhorted to find someone to read your manuscript for feedback. She thought of a friend she knew she could depend on who, sadly, had passed away not all that long ago. “How am I going to give you my manuscript to read so you can tell me how to go about marketing it? Marketing, I shouldn’t even think about that. The book isn’t anywhere near close to being done.” “Séance” drifted through her mind. Why was it such a frightening thought? She dreamt she was walking on dry leaves without making a sound but it was for her life. She kept chanting, “Walking on dry leaves she made not a sound. One crackle will bring him…” There was noise in the background. The neighbors must’ve let their dog out off the leash like they weren’t supposed to and now they were screaming for her to come back. When she came-to Miggs heard drunken laughter. “Great. Right outside the window.” The dog came back and the party went back inside. “Thanks. I didn’t like that dream anyway.” She drifted back to sleep.

By morning the writing bug had bitten again so she wanted to get right down to it. Miggs thought about her characters and how she was going to tie them together to stand up to this one evil she’d decided to name Agon who in reality was a friend of her first-boyfriend-first-ex-husband and a really nice guy. Anyway, how was she going to do this?