3WW, pink saturday, PoefusionFriday5

afterwards

sensing tension the air was heavy with an invisible fog of unmistakable proportions. envisage a humid wet jungle, a handy hatchet would suffice; but not knowing the future, i only carry a pretty petite red swiss army knife.

straining to inhibit circuitous damage my bare brown feet kept bumping against the rotten corpse of phantom souls lying littered along the crowded empty room. seeking distraction i opened the door to a beautiful carved dusty armoire. meddling into a debris-filled subsistence the smallness within expanded as reality ripened into a glittering giant peach oozing with kismet. instantly encountering a pink polka-dot rest stop, cognition circled in merry-go-round motion.

if only normal came home i could rinse away the extraneous gypsy songs and horse-led covered coaches lit with a soft fire of midnight moon.

refreshed with jungle fever immunity, i strapped on fire engine red high heeled sandals glad to be heading home, soon sleeping in the safety of my own bed.
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mingling prompts: thommyg’s 3 Word Wednesday: corpse, damage, knife; michelle’s poefusion friday five: meddle, afterwards, debris, rinse, ripen; and, beverly’s pink saturday.
photo: Tin-can Telephone, flickr

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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.
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ThomG’s 3 word wednesday, this week’s three: suffer, ache, difference
photo:  normann copenhagen, flickr

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PoefusionFriday5

love leaves loudly

quietly closing the car door she soon grasped the full impact of sleepless  nights. speaking out loud to no one in particular, “it’s either him or me. his slightly open sleepy mouth, no more.” after nights of constant torment there was no other conclusion. her quiet ways had proved to be a snare. together alone it mattered little. turning the key the engine purred softly. backing out of their driveway in the early hours before dawn her blue-green eyes began to change. good-bye tears fell flowing over falling silent wetting her chin onto her now cool nightgown. the epitasis his constant vibrating sonorous snores.
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Poefusion Friday Five this week’s five: epitasis, slightly open, blue-green, conclusion, snare
photo:  Jim Felder, flickr

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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
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photo: lizard with a blue tail, Rob Ireton, flickr

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Poetry, totally optional prompts

right of way

nomadic by nature, rich in wonder and illusion, the previous steps taken begin to mold and measure the illumination of choice. in a meandering movement of pace the road is always open before me. i often admire the emergence of a fork in the road, the approach to an intersection, a bargaining crossroads where one doesn’t stop to loiter. not today. given the right of way the path simply disregards the day and departs. distracted by conventions, elections and jesus i didn’t notice the shift of a mutation.

gazing at the mythical, temporal temptation to make my own way tugs at my soles. itching to peel out, the seasoned mind begins to ruminate and reason, accelerating to a slow stop. sipping sodas of lemonade and spirits the heat of the day overpowers the composure of confidence for movement.

as a young girl, i would gladly take steps with a smiling countenance counting the inconsequential cost in magical moments of carefree living and untold tomorrows. as a softening heart with a headful of memories i stall, cruise into neutral as the motor of my mind idles smooth as a new tuned engine. cautiously mulling over too many details, unnecessarily gathering dust, the one way calls out…come, come, i am calling.
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Totally Optional Prompt requests one way poems.
photo: STOP !! ONE WAY !!, lat454205 / Lisa, flickr

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