magpie tales, WritersIsland

waiting for the bus

magpie tales no 25 photo; and writer’s island no 14 2010: the journey. i really liked the photo this week over at magpie tales and writer’s island had a great prompt as well. at night late when one boards a bus we never know whom it is we shall meet. i’ve been there, half asleep eyes unfocused….

11 pm quiet cool evening
creating cellophane spaces
where shapeless shadows stand
sprouting at several spots
lodged along the active avenue
enjoying a secret sanctuary

seemingly occupied
the bench taken with three
the few left to stand
agile energetic forces
clear and conscious

destination bound luggage
filled with not forgotten dreams
lightly lathered in love
settling soothe sincerity
shadows shift then soar

ticket holding departure
clasp firmly by strings
unpredictable carrying key
whimpering lock harmonizing fit
stepping up to board
a forward 1 am float

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3WW

anchored

thomg three word wednesday: crush, knack, varied;
read write poem: naprowrimo day 3
photo: JVLIVS © ®™, flickr

sitting with others
she soon lost herself
in the crush of scented
lavendar and pink rose petals
gathered in a small echo of time

no longer participating
she simply moved with
the sway of varied winds
along the shoreline of
mystic rivers flowing

finding the knack
of effortless escape
became her redemption
in a homeland adrift

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Saturday Scribes, short story

forest

Saturday Scribes march 6. title/theme: unexpected trees; words: rogue, nature, fallow, intersperse; photo: Tramway wiew from the bus door, fx974, flickr

catching the last bus out of town she smiled at the rogue simplicity of the sudden impulse. the nature of this thought first appeared on a clear sunny day in late spring with the smell of shallots on the wind. the invisible manifested and the seed grew quickly planted in the fertile soil of soft and waiting.

finding a near empty bus, she soon made herself comfortable. pulling back off the mystic throttle, her breath began a slow descent to a sweet speed of normal. time enough had passed and not much later than that beautiful blue day she left taking nothing leaving everything.

hypnotized by the rhythmic movement of music connected to her ears her fallow mind ignited with a spark. crackling thoughts lit as fireworks exploded in illuminating images interspersed as falling fire reflected in the passing lights. too tired to listen to details the late night spread a sleepy spell over her loquacious mind. turning the tunes to silent she soon slept smelling the scent of shallots.

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