3WW, Poetry, we write poems

divine poem pie

we write poems: prompt 22 what’s for dinner? poetic meal served this week
three word wednesday: hint, lust, sheen; photo: twinkle little star, reverie143, flickr

steamy the hours of cognizance
a blistery bright warm fire shining
tiny tethered stars sublime
conscious creation commences

starting from scratch, these
floaty feathered delicate delights
twirl their enchantment
in and out about and around my
favored zoetic white morning cup
bold black coffee crowded

fertile fingers follow
point and click, highlighting
reading reciting and deleting
the roman font ingredients
piled high heaped in a
chocolate brown ceramic bowl

savor the suspicious
a tale of temptation
rage and rapture taste delightful
moving through the mind
making marvelous sifting spices
effortless mingle aromatic array

always adding a this or that
imagination floured and flounced
the sheen of exploratory exaggeration
the rigid recipe quietly chirps

humming handiwork
nearing done
gentle caring hands
caress the cavorting colors
pouring perfect baking bliss
a little laughter nuzzles with lust
silent the blushing browning crust

nearing another hour the eyes close and conceptualize. through an open window light appears a break of clouds the sun returns. savor the blue scent of an early morning sky. the air is cool with the hint of fall that hangs lightly just outside the door.

**zoetic [cool word] being animately existent**

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3WW

disconnect

three word wednesday: generate, meager, tease
photo:  picture.element_3&20, flickr

and then there’s that meager space of afterwards. an awkward tease of what just happened. shall we look away and pretend or generate the idea of sharing. the red apple shining bright above and the snake that snarled and hissed. oh my, i just noticed we’re naked. perhaps sharing a cigarette would lighten the burden of anxiety.

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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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