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 |  A folder for my writing August 2017 & July 2016 |
  S Both can always be done better. This item will be no exception to that rule.  |
94 words, 16 lines form: common-measure quatrains a terrible fate’s in power now its fingerprints I couldn’t spot but I know that curved signature it belongs to me on the dot anosmia* had I to shame’s stench since I played for fortune and fame nearsighted, I couldn’t discern villain’s folly, my flagrant game many selves had I to manage while disaster was on the way the lightning hit at story’s end a life wide open and astray a terrible fate’s in power now its fingerprints I couldn’t spot but I know that curved signature it belongs to me on the dot *anosmia: loss of the sense of smell ---------- Prompt: As my story came to a close I realized I was the villain all along. |
97 words 26 lines Free Form before she returned to the living an inspiration explosion a sudden burst of light such a crime she couldn’t push the story right out but neither could she conjure silence, for she wanted it to be touched by reality so she bled in red words and scribbles and bottomless abyss of concepts as she chewed pencils with an itch she couldn’t identify and then, she folded her sorrow into neat corners and stored them in word chests like bedsheets as if her trousseau in a sudden burst of light an inspiration explosion before she returned to the living ------------- 15. A writer's heart bleeds words. |
51 words, 12 lines Haiku chain in the wide-eyed night all stars have disappeared like old farewell flags on one lone thin leg its beak tucked under a wing great blue heron sleeps at the riverbank September winds poke and nudge dead fish and beer cans while hours are rushing aged hearts with jilted dreams in violation 11. The stars have disappeared. |
60 Words, 15 lines A reason exists why my shadow is speechless for when I skipped to the end of the lane, I tripped over it. Now it's lying flat on the asphalt, pitiful in baggy shorts out-of-fashion, crooked, grim under dim lights. No, it can’t be my real self wavering, awestruck, but then, why does its outline dim, like a portentous raven, palpitating? ------------ 7. What if you tripped over your own shadow? |
86 words 25 lines Free Form like a face faded the journal on the seat beckons him to read and not push away its bruised cover the writer’s initials like lost hieroglyphs compete with her shady, ill-fated life tangled in fragments countless epics of shimmer or chaos a glimpse at things found or lost or the day’s news. not true poetry on a windless breath but a spectral text serving to reveal Emerson is dead yet, his undue act a sinful trespass into someone’s script while his thoughts trip on muddied tracks 5. He found the journal on the train. |
971 words The house was dark. There was no moon. In the mild early summer night, except for a few stars, the only light came from a distant street light, throwing eerie shadows. I parked the car in the driveway and walked to the front door, the click clicks from my heels annoying me to no end. I didn’t want to be here, but I needed the extra money from these moonlighting jobs, and Nick at the agency said a man had called and told him that he was in dire need for an adult babysitter who was experienced with challenged kids. His daughter was an eight-year old, and as he had to leave immediately and for several hours, he asked that the babysitter they would be sending should just come in through the unlocked front door. I pushed the door open. The entrance light was turned off. In the dark, I searched along the wall for the switch but couldn’t find it. I walked inside, groping the side of a wall, and finally found a switch. I saw that I had made it into a fancy living room. At that moment, I heard a sudden movement behind me. I turned around. A huge man stood there, about a dozen feet away. He had a face that looked disfigured as if he was just beaten up at the rink. He grinned and nodded at me, licking his lips. “Hello,” I said. “I am Meredith Williams. The babysitter. They told me you’d be gone, Mr. Snyder.” He took a step toward me, then stopped and nodded. “Is your daughter in her room?” He flexed his large hands. “What daughter?” He had a low growl of a voice. “Sorry, they must have given me the wrong address,” I said. “No, they didn’t.” His eyes glinted in amusement. He took another long stride toward me. Now, I worried, not scared but on alert. This was ridiculous. How could the agency do this to me! “If there’s no child, I should go,” I said, backing away from him, but he was now standing in the entryway. I wondered if there might be another door, another exit, but I saw none. I reached into my purse and found the pepper spray, and then, urged by a powerful survival instinct, I held the spray up, its nozzle toward the man. “Please, you are making me uncomfortable. Let me go!” He rushed at me, in only a couple of strides. I pushed on the nozzle. He screamed like a wounded gorilla. “You shouldn’t do that to Frank,” said a wispy child’s voice. Then, I spotted an angelic-looking little girl in a lacy nightgown standing in the hallway. She had beautiful green eyes and long blonde hair cascading behind her and around her face. “Olivia?” I asked. “Yes, that’s me. Daddy said you’d come.” She skipped all the way to the living room and reached to hold my hand. I looked at the large man who was now rubbing his eyes with his two large hands. “Your daddy? But he’s …” I looked at the large man again. “He’s not my daddy. He’s Frank. Are you scared?” “Should I be?” But I was...annoyed and furious. “No. I made Frank up. He is not real. He came from here.” She motioned to her head. “Look, I can make him disappear.” She closed her eyes and opened them. I looked to where the large man was standing. But there was nobody there. Frank had really disappeared. Challenged kid? No way this girl was challenged. On the contrary, she was challenging. If I could, I would leave, but leave a helpless little girl alone? But she wasn’t helpless, was she? “I am sorry I hurt him,” I said. “But I was worried he could hurt me.” “He could because he’s Frank. You shouldn’t spray him, though. He hates that.” “I don’t know if you need me, Olivia, since you can have Frank here, again…to…to keep you company.” “You might want to give me some ice-cream,” she said. “If you can create Frank, can’t you create ice-cream, too?” I asked. “No, I can only create monsters. The kitchen’s this way.” She took my hand again and pulled me through the long hallway into the kitchen. Amazing! This kitchen was a state of the art like the rest of the house. I found a dish, opened the freezer, and took out the ice-cream. “Isn’t it a bit late for ice-cream?” I asked while spooning it into the dish. “Daddy never lets me, but don’t tell him.” She stared at me thoughtfully. “I won’t tell him,” I said, tensing up. “That means you and I can be okay together. Can you read me a monster story, too?” “Sure,” I said. “Why not! After you finish your ice-cream, though.” “You’re nice,” she said. “Just because I sent Frank on you, you didn’t yell at me.” “No, I don’t yell at nice little girls.” She giggled. “I am not nice. You should see the dinosaur I made up for Mrs. Millett. She was my first-grade teacher, but I don’t go to school, anymore.” “What happened to Mrs. Millett?” “She decided to quit teaching. You can be my teacher if you wish. Daddy is looking for someone to homeschool me.” “Your daddy wouldn’t want me. I don’t have a license to teach,” I said. “But I’ll read you a bedtime story.” “A monster story!” She gave me an insistent glare. “Of course, Olivia,” I said. “Whatever you want.” Actually, teaching is my day job, but Olivia didn’t need to know that. |
27 lines, 112 words Free Verse it is a habit with you to get lost, dear Snow White it must have something to do with the seven that did everything for you, seven angels or seven demons can you tell? but you never longed to break that fine streak the tension in which you drift every day, and every which way holding your breath closing your eyes not watching your step, and why do you live in a daze through grids, circles and spirals? you should know that no prince ever drew a map for anyone to find their way, and one more thing, how can you get lost in a castle when the castle is all yours? ======== 6. She got lost in the castle. |
15 lines 57 words Free Verse normally, what you abandon, abandons you like the dreams you let go or sight of the splendor in fir trees under snow or the Ravel’s unearthly Gaspard de la Nuit but the eye contact you hold on to for a little too long is a poisonous stinger leaving you lost about the proper way to say goodbye ======== 3. Eye contact is a dangerous thing. |
97 words, 23 lines Free Verse inside star systems dark matter plots the course we take in a future past or mythic times of yore... you think? and with minds turning into dusty panes when we strut, looking up not seeing, not knowing where we are going, something gets lost along the way and in a busy city, so many turns we shuffle through and miss a turn or two or maybe the wrong turn is itself the catalyst. Such is the fate of our tales so spun by the hand that wields the steel, since even Ceasar didn’t expect to be stabbed. -------------- 13. Wrong turns in life. |
20 lines, 87 words Free Verse A tiny flattened beach stone in the shape of a heart once we found together you and I under a cloudless sky. You painted it red with a spray can, then you drilled a hole so a chain could pass through while I stared unbelieving since I would be leaving in a day or two. Now blaming the fate and the writing on the wall I touch the pendant around my neck as the memento of a lovely day that left a hole in a stone heart. ========== 40. A trinket which means something. |
19 Lines 77 words Free Verse she curves as if turning from her human shape into petals flapping to music to hide the secrets of honeybees, fusing life into motion, dipping and soaring like a single cell but flesh nevertheless and in her eyes the distance of thin birds sliding backwards and forwards, into clouds, then prancing upon the coils of grass as the smooth, sad curve of her cheeks show shadows of votive candles for another vanishing dream etched with her initials ========= 43. She danced as if she were floating and her face showed... |
64 words, 19 lines Free Verse The boy in blue denims among the tide of pedestrians waves at the parade imagining himself on the shoulders of the flag bearer. After all, any contact can be consolatory So much is happening but nothing’s taking place inside connections unheard of, like his two parents leaving him out alone on the busy street similar to the toy cars in his dreams lacking wheels. ============= 19. The boy without parents. |
15 lines, 74 lines Free Verse intoning in a rich soprano voice it tells me not to think too much about stuff like old wounds, young worries and my remorse about what I have left unread what I have left unsaid what I have crushed into smithereens, and it adds not to speed along or climb high hills even if time has shortened then it accompanies that with a strong snicker Shucks! I am not sure it knows me anymore ============== 22. Your inner voice. |
45 words, 12 lines Free Verse A favorite place to dream is the café inside Barnes and Noble’s the touch of books, firm, protective, searching, in a devouring dance tender, delicate, like love making reaching where I long to be, as if in a dream celebrating a symbolic dimension of myself. ------------------ Prompt: A favorite place to dream... |
9 lines, 58 words Free Verse flakes fluttering down to the ground weaving a soft carpet of white as winter announces its presence catching snow on my tongue I inhale the cool perfuming of air under the bareness of trees its smell wraps me in a shawl as if a reminder of aging and my heart breaks for my affair’s end with the world =============== Prompt: 23. The smell of air, right before the snow falls. |
12 lines, 43 words Free Verse October’s moon unseen wanes buried in clouds crisp air in dark midnight woods thunder’s sharp sounds rush into my ears then, in early morning’s autumn breeze I find dewdrop worlds shivering on the leaves in colors sepia, red, golden on my flower bed ========== Prompt: When leaves turn golden. |
16 lines, 75 words Free verse polluted water in drops came down on the Hudson while Jersey trembled in lights making me recall a man I once loved, who drowned in pools of secrets, and the fear of me while his rain choked him, but still, he turned his head aside from pain and said, “I can love again,” although I didn’t hear him then, but soon I found out, it wasn’t him talking, but my own soul addressing my heart. ------------- prompt: After the Rain |
111 words, 28 lines Free Verse they’re flying in flocks in the middle of the empty highway in dark black outfits and pointy hats. the crows are cawing other birds making way. the sky is flaming red as are the lanes. she lands her broom on the front of my car while I can see she’s listening to me or possibly, the song coming from my CD Santana’s Black Magic Woman “Turn your back on me, baby Got your spell on me, baby!” That is when I see my own reflection on the windshield listening with my eyes wet and I think it has to be her potion injected in those words to bring back that old memory. ------------ Prompt: Spells and potions, witches and their notions... |
64 words, 18 lines Free verse on the narrow street I fear there’ll be nothing left of the living once the winter is gone for the blizzard leaps with eyes poking through the gloom white icicles falling sharp in its spiky hair and this wizard who spins visions on his loom of snow emits a howl with satisfaction as he conducts flakes to form depths we would otherwise not know. === 47. With the blizzard comes a wizard. |
14 lines -- 58 words Free verse My aunt and I picked blueberries from the bush its brambles scratching hidden from the view We stained our lips and our fingertips with the juicy sweet purple berries the best hiding among thorns that tasted sour sauced with blood. They still taste sweet when I think of my aunt and taste my tears sour on my cheeks. |
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