3WW, Poetry, short story

fulfilled.3ww

faithful to the cause he wandered over intoxicated by a mouth watering scent hanging in a still air. pressing his nose through brush and dirt he began circling madly as if under a spell to isolate the fragrance. oh so happy and unwilling to howl he plopped into oblivion his paws clutching the prize. tuned in to an unchanging truth he began to scrutinize and sniff the horizon searching the unknown. Noting nothing he chewed and licked till the very last of the bone’s marrow disappeared.

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three word Wednesday: faithful, isolate. scrutinize

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magpie tales, Poetry, short story, six sentences

magpie94.duplicity

somber shelter sincerity, subterfuge speculation, suffocating faceless fantasies he’s not so sure he’ll last another day. cravings for a cigarette his current distraction.

she unexpectedly found herself with thought thinking he was always different. as if this is always as it was. yes, he is just there rummaging about creating an economy of movement.

his difference so subtle only by accident can one catch the commitment in his eyes. living in a halcyon hurricane amongst the quietly unperturbed, they began to gather their sails dreaming of departure.

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magpie tales no 94 photo: Lunch, George Tooker, 1964, Columbus Museum of Art

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Poetry

one word. plague

one word: plague. photo courtesy of steffen tuck, flickr

drawn to the moonlight

bitten by a mosquito i thought nothing of it other than to scratch it and curse. and then everything changed. spotted and green it was a new look to an old feeling. grasping at another groan, i began replacing the pretty pink lipstick i kept on just for distraction. a subtle reminder… keeping away the foreign kiss of the others.

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napowrimo 2011, short story, we write poems

we write poems. firemaker

we write poems: making fire
photo: sherwood411, flickr
day 6, napowrimo 2011

Fire Sticks

night comes and we sleep knowing the sun will return. before long there is a first call commotion. a band of birds on a branch twittering. connected comes the changing of lights. the darkness disappears and just as swiftly appears the soft sincerity of a rising sun. emerging we celebrate the arrival of light that dismisses the cool air and the delicate nourishing dew brushing against our cold bare feet.

in the very first hours of morning we step right into the warm shining day towards the circle where everything began. there in the middle a few thread bare sticks and the ancient fire maker. he simply sat silent whispering little lightning bolts towards the sticks. prancing as alerted fireflies they alight upon the sticks disappear and before a time fire appears in the rising smoke and crackle. he is our fire maker and we bow in reverence. as a people our fire maker gives our village much.

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