But what will I write

Yes I could

I would, now

But what will I write

You know I should

I feel it inside

Come out from hiding

Let’s see

The muse is knocking


Spend time with me

But what will I write

Impromptu as it seems

It’s on the tip of my tongue

I love it

The passion, the fever

The longing

The fun

Eagerness waiting

No, awaits poetic licensing

To my head tain’t no gun

I wish each morning at the keyboard to stay

And bang out a novel

Pages every day


But what will I write




100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#160


This week’s prompt is:

 …but what will I write…




Dead Of Winter


          I came into consciousness on the floor. Slowly I got to my feet, looked around in the pitch black of what I knew was the living room and drew a complete blank. Where were the light switch and my clothes? How many times had I been here, why couldn’t I find anything? Staggering a little I made it to the kitchen and looked out the window at my house where my children and his son slept. I’d never liked this arrangement, never liked being separated from them. The night was breathtakingly frozen, trees covered in ice, the drive in plowed snow. I found my way back and put my hand on the arm of the couch directly onto my keys. How did they get there? Breathing a thank-you I grasped them tight. Not caring about anything else, I firmly positioned the one in my hand that would unlock my door.

Making my way back to the kitchen door, I breathed in, opened it, stepped out and ran. I let my body tense forbidding the cold to touch me. My feet didn’t slip as I became a mythical creature of the night bounding a few graceful strides to the front steps. I slid the key into place, and the door opened onto a vision of children asleep under piles of blankets. With the final stride I entered and slid under with them as it slammed behind me. No one stirred. My body began to tremble from the shock of below zero; I calmed my breathing and felt warmth begin creeping up from my toes.

I awoke a few hours later, the sun blazing through a window onto my face and no other sounds but soft breathing. I rose, pulled on a pair of men’s sweats, a cowl neck sweater, my favorite oversized flannel shirt, slouchy socks, and walked over to the phone. I had one chance that he’d wake and let me in so I could get what was left behind. He answered on the third ring and I crossed the drive. I gathered things together surprised at how close they’d been to where I’d stood. Arms full, I teased a goodnight and left. The children slept peacefully as I made coffee. I walked to the window with my steaming cup and looked out on a perfect frozen morning, stunningly brilliant, intoxicatingly crisp.

Save It For A Stormy Day

Once again I took shelter

Will these storms ever end?

By now it should be dry

But we gathered in that safe place

Families drenched

No time for an umbrella

Though I took mine

With rain pelting so

Ouch, that stings

Barefoot many came

Not me though feet were soaked

It’s right over our heads

Our complex manager said

That’s close

Hasn’t been this way since ‘88

Offering beer, soda and snacks

It’ll be fixed up for next time

More comfortable, you’ll see

Soon enough warnings passed

Watch for floods weathermen said

That’s a given with torrential rains

From the inner room we emerged

Back to videos, maybe sleep

Had anyone begun to eat?

Thunder rumbles in the distance

Further the better

That’s something we’ll keep

Summer sunshine come back

With us please stay

Kick-off the new day

We plead

Dark Velvet Musk


He was a dancer

I remember

He walked out

Body painted in colors that glowed

In scattered spotlights

He carried something small

A silver object

To a spot on the floor

Opened then lit




He moved around

He stilled

He conjured that I could tell

To mystical music

Where star-stream fingers reached

Down my back, my waist

Surrounded spectators all

His body swayed more

Gyrations, no trance

He stilled his full length

Standing tall, stepped over

As a flame stretched high

Long tongue licked caressing his jeweled prize


My claws extended

My smile increased

Exposing elongated teeth

Venom dripped

I didn’t muster a swipe

As a woman standing in my shoes shouted

Demanded in a scream he

“Burn them off!”

Deep, rich

She chortled such glee

Turning his head

He danced toward her

Toward me


But I won’t give in

Nothing I’ll leave

I need more than this

Is that all there is?

What’s in a name?

Ultimate Fantasy they stake claim one and all

Dare you boast such fame?

I grinned

Elongated bared again

Blood and venom

Lips full to bursting

My smile won’t quit

Maybe later we’ll see


Nothing To Do With Boston



“Out of the 13 children at daycare his son was one of them making for an interesting dilemma. His wife, or ex-wife, dropped the kids off in the morning and dad could be depended on to pick them up always demonstrating what a loving father he was.”



“That’s a better start than trying to come up with something about the Tea Party” Şaron thought. “Which reminds me…” She opened her Create Space folder. The entry read: “It’s the 4th – Yay America, though we still have plenty of Queens (we like them better), Moët and Chandon notwithstanding; Indians didn’t do it.”




This Week’s Prompt: “…The 13…”



100 Word challenge for grown ups – Week#158



The Teacher

For the first time in a long time I reached for my pens. Those fountain things that make my handwriting really me. I found ink but no pen; you know I’ll be buying new ones tomorrow, so I grabbed a mechanical pencil discovering one had lost its eraser and lead covered the bottom of the suede case from undergrad days, worn but still intact. Anyway, I’ll get to that and this’ll do.

Write a note to myself the instructor of the child development session had requested – firmly. She’ll be back in two weeks to discuss. Find something in the handouts and I did; the first thing in fact.

What can I do to prevent burnout? Do it now, not later. OK.

Let me say this is the best teaching job I’ve ever had and I’ve had a few. There’s a slight chance here, a slight possibility I’ll make a difference. I’ll take it!

I examine myself every day and always look for a better way. It’s who I am.

Am I perfect? No way in hell. I make mistakes with a flair yet these kids know better which sometimes makes it tough. They know my flaw. I’ve fallen in love again with each and every one down to the babies. Barely reaching five they’re all babies, but down to the infants. All possess that knowing look. How do they do that so young?

Fresh from God it’s wisdom I used to have. I need to remember, to get that back to return, to give right back to them.

Rough Draft


Why am I thinking of this man? Her mind wouldn’t rest. She’d dreamt about him; he’d held her, non-threatening. It felt nice. Every now and again he’d creep into her mind. She’d taken a mouthful of bourbon and saw him kissing moisture from her lips. She imagined she might be old enough to be his grandmother but at least his mother then saw him kissing her mouth shut.

I’m insane.


Were he and his wife divorced or just separated?

Well, at least we were free. Are free.


When he’d first seen her he walked by running his hand along the remnant of her waist…





Prompt: “At least we were free”

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#157