magpie tales, Poetry, short story


magpile tales: photo each week ;  and, let’s not forget the unforgettable marvin gaye’s rendition of the star spankled banner [utube]

we decided to start all over. from the beginning. and now there’s all sorts of dirty laundry piled high in our closet. his and mine. i only do laundry when there’s a slow movie with a hundred commercials. tho’ there’s not a tv in the house, no electricity. we lounge around in each other’s minds playing games we’re both familiar with. sometimes i watch out of spite not giving a inch. he manages a smile coming from day one starting the love cycle all over again.

3WW, short story


three word wednesday: depart, ignite, rotten
photo: Will the Circle be Unbroken, evanembee, flickr

there must be a quiet among the rolling hills of green grass spread out forever far. a depart of the every day mundane tasks seemingly surreal and disquieting sometimes. a spark that ignites the weakened flame scattering bright. starting soft and subtle working its way through the flower and sweat passing the rotten and rude. begins the breath a wheel created. record the carve of bendable curves. once decided turns in a round complete. have you seen this circle?

Napowrimo, Poetry, ReadWritePoem, short story

tabac infusion

read write poem napowrimo day 16 whatz that smell. free write i remember 5 minutes; photo: tabac cologne

 i remember you now a short fuse memory long with laughing eyes.  i remember a particular smell flapping freely near my nearness intimate jello knees. i remember perfect perpetual passion spilling left and right and open skies above. i remember venice picture taking under that famous bridge and st mark’s square. i remember italy sunlight seashore mediterranean blues. i remember etratat the sweetness lingers now with seabreeze swaying cliff dwelling shine and small room rumpled sheets. i remember traveling train switzerland secure within your arms when who they asked do you come from. i remember hot vinjac dreams beneath a cool full moon, a distant view of lake bled castle where whispers wandered willingly when walking romance quiet. i remember now not never the scent of you alone. i remember the bottle now elusive no not never broken.

Napowrimo, ReadWritePoem, short story

curtain call

read write poem napowrimo day 9. your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to use at least twelve words from this list: flap, winter, torch, pail, jug, strum, lever, massage, octopus, marionette, stow, pumice, rug, jam, limp, campfire, startle, wattle, bruise, chimney, tome, talon, fringe, walker; Include: (1) something that tastes terrible; (2) some part (from a few words to several lines) of a previous poem that didn’t quite pan out; and (3) a sound that makes you happy. day 9 was a challenge to complete. this one took most of the day to form and fit a story that was worth revealing.
photo: diesmali, flickr

resisting the warmth of the glowing campfire the willowy walker began his chant imparted from the verbal echoes of the elder voices. uncorking the soft remote, his closed eyes searched the roomy skies pulling hard on the lever of long distance. happiness slowly smiled intrados as his body responded to the rural rug beneath lifting upward acknowledging the familiar strum of his beating heart. detecting the ubiquitous utterances of the sacred tome the talons of time embraced his breath leaving him instantly limp. crossing the invisible the flap of resistance released bringing back his body. awakening to a bitter taste of buried burning bones he knew he was near his resting place. in the clearing of creation he could see the fiery torch of purple and gold leading him heavenward. with a startle of remembrance he began to massage the bruise of last week’s circle dance as the beating drums swam along the stars. hidden in the folds of his memory shuffling his feet along side her who sighs to the wailing white moon he who is soon to be a starry host, polaris.

3WW, short story


three word wednesday: brazen, hunger, nuzzle
photo: little soldier, kimtojin, flickr

discovering the cure enabled one to forego the everyday attempt of simple gestures. dodging dialogue.  acknowledging the frail. bypassing a morning kiss. a nuzzle of intimacy. hello. yes, i know, i haven’t been a lot of here lately. everything involved the cure and there was no space left to absolve his losing ground. the hunger of the hunter never rested. once the sun set it was a race to find refuge from the brazen onslaught of the unseen enemy.