Silent killer

Hate knawls at me

Teeth chewing on leather

Absolving my indifference

Price of caring varies

But doing nothing is free

Time slips away like sand

You can’t see darkness

You can only sense empty

Despondent memories grow

Lingering to poison me

Souring the breaths I take

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Sunday Whirl – Way to the Top

Low and tight, I grab at tree roots. My simple gravel path trimmed to a knife’s edge. My eyes caught a climb away from vertigo inspiring view. A stomach in knots, joins other spreading pains like gingham pattern.

I grab a branch to rise, only to receive a pine scented water spray when it slips slowly away.

FFAW- They were French Fries

This week’s photo prompt is provided by wildverbs. Thank you wildverbs for our photo prompt!

“There’s a funny stone over here!” Derrick yells across Meadowhaven Gardens.

Julia grimaces his direction. She keeps thumbing through the guidebook. “What’s the point of reading about these people? You are jumping from place to place. These are real stories of what happened to these people. It’s so cool to think…”

“Hey, you got to see this one!” Derrick grows louder as if to wake the dead.

“Coming!” Julia finds row 15 in the book. “What’s the last name? …. Never mind I found it. Reginald Foster. He had heart attack while eating on Pier 9. His last words immortalized as ‘They were French fries!'”

104 words

Sunday Whirl – Sudden Trip

My hand skims the turbulent surface of Lake August. The electric motor whines as the minutes slide from the clock. My heart races. My cargo needs hiding. Daylight doesn’t creeps in to my view, revealing a tiny shed in a rugged lawn.

Who knew too much lust and a pillow could end this way.

Independence Day

Gentle flame dances

Upon unsettled winds

We see the light

It holds our way forward

Shadows will reach us

They tell us its dimming

But still the light glows

It has shown for generations

Twilight always brought tomorrow

Our faith rewarded every time

The flame speaks if we listen

It burns brightest against the dark

These truths are self evident

We are our own masters

But do we stay in the light

Freedom is ours to share

Wordle – Difference of Opinions

This week I am filling in – Wordle credit to Yves.

  1. pint
  2. chase
  3. fists
  4. cease
  5. sleeping bag
  6. octopus
  7. marooned
  8. metal
  9. breathless
  10. pennyworth
  11. wastrel (noun). a wasteful or good-for-nothing person.
  12. wanderjahr (noun). A year spent travelling abroad, typically immediately before or after a university or college course.

—————————————————————————-

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle

“Wastrel?!” I stand breathless as my fists cease to clutch. “You, my dear are tighter than an octopus squeezing every pennyworth rather than chase fresh meat.”

“I’ll raise a pint to that metal you received from the wanderjahr spent marooned in your hometown.” She smiles in that way the ceases hope.

FFAW – Wardrobe malfunction

“I was a model for God’s sake!” She sneers at heart pathetic staff. “How could you let me go out wearing this? It says ‘I don’t care Do U?’ people will think I am a monster!”

The first lady throws the coat against the wall.

No one speaks. The eyes are locked on the floor it’ll be a long flight back.

She stands arms on hoops waiting for one of them to come tell her it’ll be alright. They don’t.

She reaches a glass of water. Her throat dry freedom the outside air.

Slowly the water freezes dripping ice over the side.

“No one say a word” whispers a staffer

111 words

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa. Thank you Enisa!

Distant Thunder

I look up to the skies

Sapphire blue stretches

Feathers of white scatter about

My eyes search for storms not there

My ears hear thunder still

Cool wind hints of moisture

It stirs humid stagnant air

Faint smells are carried to me

I know it but it still eludes identity

Still I hear distant thunder

The dryness of the soil calls

It speaks in cracks and groans

Once fertile harbor for floral beauty

Slowly the green leaves the landscape

It hopes it hears thunder

Forgotten Rain Gods watch on

Helpless as they are now nameless

Their tears no longer flow to the ground

Theirs is a hope that nature answers soon

They feel the distant thunder

Still I stare at the blue sky

Depth without substance again

I do not wish to curse the light again

My heart waits without patience

For that distant thunder

Instilling Fear

Like a shard of glass

I fell it under skin

I’m restless and consumed

Simple things concern me

Most do not affect me

But still they linger on

headlines tell me ‘be afraid’

Enemies changing spinning..

like a wheel rolling down a road

They grow faster than I count

My pulse quickens as it moves on

I know reality once upon a time

Now I knows fear and anger

The voices tell me the darkness grows

They don’t tell me who controls the switch

Wordle – That Person

Credit: Candice of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


1. Drab

2. Envy

3. Counterweight

4. Correspond

5. Qualify

6. Ginger

7. Revolve

8. Deasil

9. Finite

10. Pressurize

11. Postpone

12. Thewless – Adjective. thewless (not comparable) (obsolete) Lacking morals or virtue. Lacking vigour or energy; listless; weak; nerveless

I’m postponing the next corresponding move. She knows I’ll make a deasil path. There’s are finite ways to revolve within her drab ginger world. Best to approach thewlessly, any signs of envy must be counterweighted by contempt. Her personality pressurize the simplest thingsn like saying ‘hello’