napowrimo 2011, short story, we write poems

we write poems. firemaker

we write poems: making fire
photo: sherwood411, flickr
day 6, napowrimo 2011

Fire Sticks

night comes and we sleep knowing the sun will return. before long there is a first call commotion. a band of birds on a branch twittering. connected comes the changing of lights. the darkness disappears and just as swiftly appears the soft sincerity of a rising sun. emerging we celebrate the arrival of light that dismisses the cool air and the delicate nourishing dew brushing against our cold bare feet.

in the very first hours of morning we step right into the warm shining day towards the circle where everything began. there in the middle a few thread bare sticks and the ancient fire maker. he simply sat silent whispering little lightning bolts towards the sticks. prancing as alerted fireflies they alight upon the sticks disappear and before a time fire appears in the rising smoke and crackle. he is our fire maker and we bow in reverence. as a people our fire maker gives our village much.

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3WW, haiku my heart, Poetry, short story

release

Female Reed Buntingthomg’s three word wednesday: blink, occasion, kind
rebecca’s friday’s recuerda mi corazon [haiku my heart]
photo: female reed bunting, Ian A Kirk, flickr

possessing a bag of seeds was a kind weight. never felt heavy or burdensome. the notion of planting the empty field across the way was going to be an auspicious occasion. only now the soil rested in a deep surrounding silence.

washing the last of the dishes the open window carelessly captivates with possession. stretching she touches the great wind. and with willowy wings hovering over the vanished, she gazes at the gathering of seeds once scattered, revealing a buried task that took a time lasting long.

and now in the blink of an eye the end began. before her written in fine flare the notice had materialized. with wet hands she reaches and touches the great wind.

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short story, we write poems

opus

we write poems: conversation between two. any sort of two
photo:opera, sanako, flickr

Opera

arrange the setting.
two people.
it’s around early, middle evening.
opera in paris. a wonderful opera.

sharing the evening of passion and pain dressed up lovely. seated in their own, secret thoughts screaming. they do not touch or move. later when the second scene seamlessly pours over, each one emerges in flight, swimming in synesthesia. hinting of a crest the scene burns so brightly. remembering to breathe, air brings back their world. seated separately they never knew what they shared in silent conversation.

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3WW, magpie tales, short story

plainly speaking

three word wednesday: judge, nightfall, safety
photo: magpie tales no 44

…there was nothing between us. playing cards for years we both read and judged our plays beyond the snapping sound of brain transmissions. we’d start by sharing a casual drink in the safety of comfort and find an anchor sledding about in the candlelight of nightfall. too soon caught, the quiet mist comes. we first heard the loud hush hiding about in the fluid corners of fire light. a signal our journey would begin.

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Big Tent Poetry, CafeWriting, short story, the bistro

voodoo child

big tent poetry monday prompt this week offers a wordle of wonder
cafe writing – the bistro, do you believe in magic, option 2 poetry

hung around his neck  a tinkling sound of seashells and the roar of tsunami splashed wet at his feet. his cupped hands dripping with honey, the bees stayed too. come he motions, his words prancing in a chorus line of thundering hoofs, i’ll not wait forever. shoeless she wanders awake in a world of alice. his cheshire smile remains sincere while her thirst resurfaced in the ash pit of frozen fire longing for heat. who could tell the connection he held with gentleness as he roped her in.

listening to some great music, jimi hendrix always always brings it on….

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