Posted in Books & Stories

Peace, Cappuccino, Darkness Wakes

 

Peace, quiet, crisp breeze through an open slit in the door. Hssss… in the distance, somewhere cars travel. Not me. Not this time. But wait. I hear footsteps from someone awake. That could only be one person (I hope). It is Halloween you know.

Hugs and kisses for me. The first request of the day has to do with the iPad location, “why, I put it near your bed”. “Yeah but you usually put it here on the place right next to the bed not the table”. Too technical so early… my bad… super-bad. I try to do things professionally you see. Now peaceful still, but sirens, distant sirens join in, electronic battle sounds low, watch a video for gold coins, something about cigarettes… so that’s why the age to play was raised to 13. Should we sell to 13-year olds when no one should smoke at all?

 

Ah, the moral question.

 

But it’s so… cozy, not warm but a feeling of warmth. A special time. Looking at the glass door there will be sky. Still, leave balcony lights on, orange, purple, green. Nice. But I’ll go make cappuccino now, get the vitamin and smoothie regimen started. Carve a jack-o-lantern, watch spooky flicks, be lazy, candy later… yeah, sounds like a good day to me.

Widen those slats. Here comes more sky.

Posted in Fiction & Poetry, Thought Food

Early This Morning

 

 

I rose early hours to sneak across the street

Not that it wasn’t light

It was but not bright

Not yet

But peaceful, so quiet

 

Getting back

 

I walk through the dew with sandals

Eww… cold wet feet

They’ll dry

To my ramps on and off

I cross the highway

One car passes by

A half-hearted attempt to break the sound barrier

“You first” shimmers through my mind

Under cables I limbo to reach the other side

 

Why?

 

I adore 24-hour stores

And shopping when no one’s awake

Shelves are stocked

Floors buffed bright

What a delight

Well, not the floors so much

But being able to shop without crowds

The smells of coffee even there

As café counters wake

Bread is baked food cooking

Cold cuts unwrapped and placed

We sleepy smile at each other and nod

Those of us who simply must be

I find my few things

The reasons for my quest

Others enter now

They begin but I’m done

I commune with an electronic teller and leave

No penny exchange

Cards and promises remain

Better hold up my end

Not like I’ll be giving it back

Whatever the future holds

 

I make my way home

Across ramps, under cables

Allow cars to zoom past

Four or five more than before

Still peaceful enough

A cool morning too

Perfect

Unpack my bag so I can write

Make espresso

Get comfortable a red pillow on the floor

A coffee table named rightly so

Words’d been running through my mind as I’d stepped out the door

You know, as I was walking through dew

I thought, “Damn, wrong time to type (confounded muse)

Hope I remember something when I get back

Interesting what inspires, those simple things

Like a walk across the highway to get to a store…”

 

Well that’s it

Going to freshen up my espresso

Think of something to watch

Vampires my preference for Sunday

Apropo

But I may not disturb this peace yet

Food for thought

I don’t know

A day off, chillaxin’

No pressing place to go

Posted in Books & Stories, Fiction & Poetry

10:53

 

 

 

Here I sit while sweat drips

Why though?

AC’s on and no menopause to speak of

Been there done that

Will jump in the shower

Refresh, relax

Be ready for dawn

Then in to work with me

To be with people I’d rather not see

Have you ever had that on a job?

Look around and say no thanks

Bide my time until

 

Hmmm

 

Until remains to be seen

 

The journey is written, the future unknown

The Secret no secret, perspective’s all me

 

Cool, I like me

Speaking of which, about that shower…

 

 

Posted in Books & Stories, Flashes

Once Upon

 

 

Once upon a time there was a single mom and her son. Every day they’d go out for walks together. Though most times they’d stop at friends’ one day they decided to take a longer walk around the lake. This led to excursions down side roads taking them away from the lake into lush, peacefully silent wooded areas. They found a dirt road and as they followed along came upon a small cemetery of unusually ornate, old headstones. One seemed to call to her. Unimpressed the boy wanted to keep going.

“But my poor old feet” mom said. “Let’s rest here and have a picnic.”

 

 

100wcgu-7

 

https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/05/25/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week153-2/

 

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#153

 

The prompt this week is:

 “…but my poor old feet…”

 

 

Posted in Fiction & Poetry, Writing Challenges

Bad Hair Day

 

No one’s beautiful wife rose early as she did

Silently crept disturbing no one’s sleep

Looked out the window giving a peek

To the parasitic tree

The mistletoe such significance

But she was no one’s beautiful wife

 

Standing over the stove creating

Silently she stirred as daylight rose

The curtains drawn back

Such a sight covering trunk and branch

Those special berries poisonous

We stand beneath and kiss

 

But she was no one’s beautiful wife

Silently she stood listening outside a door

Peaceful sleeping gentle breath

A good rest health restored

A sigh of relief no one heard

From no one’s beautiful wife

 

100wcgu-7

http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2014/12/08/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week158/

The prompt this week being: …those special berries…