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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Napowrimo, Poetry, ReadWritePoem

jimi

read write poem: napowrimo no 1 shuffle a poem. 5 song titles write a poem
photo: there must be some way outta here

 

hey joe
always wondered
where you went

strolling a
still desert
suddenly singing
the wind cries mary

the taste
of gritty sand
brings back the red ring
stone free i’m
spared the stumble

traveling caravan
tinkling bells
bangles and charms
hidden from sight
little wing etched in ink

infinite grains
whirling webs
shifting sentiment
castles are made of sand

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Saturday Scribes, short story

lacuna

saturdayscribes: theme: failure to communicate; words/phases: consuming wounds prophet
photo: Mike Rodriquez, flickr

on the way to portland
we passed the columbia river
at least a hundred times
back and forth
side by side

almost hypnotizing
windswept waters
shifted the want of talk

the radio station crackled
some dj prophet spoke of love
mysterious crazy love
he cooed as a dove and played
jimi hendrix little wing

the hours stretched
as a white empty canvas
waiting for paint
propped up against
a thousand others

interrupting time
i slept a short while
and while dreaming
tiny little blood beads
dropped with little hesitation
opening and oozing

a couple of old wounds resurface
sang out in acapello a song
familiar yet ungettable
and when i reached out
to soothe the smear
they sprouted a hundred hairy tiny
little funny legs
and ran away

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EmptyBones, Poetry

respiration

the blue sky stood high
without strings or glue
no invisible hands held high
that i could see

troubling troubles
burning hot coals
sparked flint
burning blue

influencing suggestion
surreal seconds ago
telling secrets
with long ago tails

a smooth whiskey
with an ice waterback

bring back jimi hendrix
and stevie ray vaughn

in order of no
consequence
breathing sigh

i observe a
forked tongue
spinning tales
with short legs
slithering away
* * * * * * * *
photo: lizard with a blue tail, Rob Ireton, flickr

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