3WW, Poetry

change me

thomg’s three word wednesday this week’s offer: fragile rampant tremor

she soon discovered his fragile state
starting with a small tremor
quickly becoming uncontrollable
and why oh why was there this
rampant released hysterical laughter
staring at his back now nothing as he was
his best suit torn and hair, hair everywhere
he turns and smiles so silly with wicked wild fangs
what’s for dinner honey

Standard
OneSingleImpression, Poetry

dinner plates

one single impression: prompt 123 roads. courtesy of gautami tripathy at firmly rooted
photo: Door Keepers, Firenzesca, flickr

wrapped in buttermilk
and cheesecloth the
chicken was baking
to perfection

sighing with satisfaction
a stretch and a shift showers
enchanted extra moments
in this bewitched kitchen
enough to socialize
and smile

invitation left ajar
just 5 or 6, possibly 12
my fantastic familiar friends
maybe a mutual acquaintance
7 intercepted serendipity strangers

deciding on dinner
here we 12 are nestled
lives entwined
in a mix of candlelight
music and wine

mingling madness soiree
we impart our intentions with
our edifying renditions of
lasting love acapello
dinner melts marvelous

too soon i’m serving
thin slices of
pumpkin cheesecake
espresso and cognac
candle light melt
eric clapton continues

we further pass the
endless excursions
of this and that
making room for
tomorrows we
hope to engage

saying good night
floating guests withdraw
heading homeward
in different directions
the door closed, the latch locks
everyone has vanished

beckoning reality
dishes dancing, open window
such a sweeping view
clean up is a breeze

Standard
3WW

3 movements in c

next to nothing there wasn’t much more to say. we silently suffered though a distant dinner of fish and folly, fumbling through the arrid ache of arduous arbitration.

merrily mocking the captivating candles created a queer quiet between the fork of fortune and a spoonless soup of suggestion.

clutching the amber after dinner cognac, the fumes of fire recalled to mind a good night’s sleep in contaminated comfort makes all the difference in early morning merriment makeup we play with perfection.
* * * * * * * * * * *
ThomG’s 3 word wednesday, this week’s three: suffer, ache, difference
photo:  normann copenhagen, flickr

Standard
PoefusionFriday5

snow white’s steak a poivre

blissfully imperfect, dinner continued to cook slowly. wearing a perfectly exiguous apple red dress i told the questionably gifted mirror to keep the thoughtless cynical comments to himself. turning my back, his reply a silly safe snicker he thoroughly enjoyed. rather than continue i searched in silence for the way out of a strange celestial conversation. propelled forward on a waterless flood, i placed my rushing heart on the sleeveless red dress and let the waterfall of love answer the arid waiting door.
* * * * * * *
poefusion Friday 5: exiguous, thoughtless, gifted, imperfect, waterfall
photo: yakherderman, flickr

Standard
Poetry

seamless blue stitch

one day. doesn’t matter when i linger too long the subtleties soon disappear. the walls come down and he chatters a storm. if only to remember tomorrow the meaningful words in between. tonight we share the evening as the moon flies away and then we will be gone. till departure arrives, we’ll drink together the fainting hour and i shall listen to your tender talk.

another day. you rest your heart upon my shoulder. allow your up close, sky blue eyes to focus on our clandestine interlude. eyes listening, hearing your smile as you sound your way through a blend of blues playing softly in the background shadows. relaxed for the evening, time carelessly continues leaving all to grasp its meaning.

one evening. pulling my wishes aside decided to walk the way. granting time to consider the stars shining in the evening sky. echoes crisp, black heels tapping to an invisible beat of love waiting. just a few minutes late, you shall be seated. will you stand? an irrelevant gesture so full of regret. if not, no; if so, yes, then maybe.

later on. decided to smile in a big way, silence overflowed with mirth. maybe it was the quiet music playing spanish songs with passionate players. the casual chianti dinner sought to lengthen the delight. strictly business, no foul play, stick to the menu. casual discussion of business and the day. stretching out the implicated intervals. maybe there was something to it. those sorta souls that stand around and do destiny’s bidding with little arrows and bows. could not help to pause and ponder. his mouth as it moves, does he speak so clearly and concise with his business suit missing?
* * * * * * * * *
photo: Thread & Needle, Marc Pinter, flickr

Standard