Inside Thoughts

I wantto take your breath away.

I watchyou move completely 

My mind locked on every part

My eyes flash to keep up

Your body converts to road map

Some curves are far more dangerous 

At least in my view from here

You’re an addiction wanting to hook me

I linger on thoughts of being emerged

Drifting Away 

I watch you drift 

Each passage leads you further 

You never look back 

Currents toy with your ambition

Eddies await to swirl your direction

On shore, any hope floats past you

Your empty hands only reach from afar 

Past the length of any arm 

Tomorrow you will out out again 

The tides await your efforts 

Again I’ll watch to see if you return 

We dance until the chord breaks 

The waves drowned the sound 

Until the horizon welcomes you 

 I’ll still be on the shore 

Waiting to see where you’ll go

Wordle – Fuzzy Thought 

1. Cloud

2. Crumble

3. Flight
4. Ambedo ((n.) a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life.)
5. Blackberry
6. Dazzle
7. Switch
8. Tide
9. Care
10. Voracious
11. Eminent ((adj.) high in station, rank, or repute; prominent; distinguished: conspicuous, signal, or noteworthy: lofty; high: prominent; projecting; protruding.)
12. Misbehave
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

My clouded mind crumbles.  Tides of care take flight and dazzle my ambedo mood. Voracious blackberries take eminent roles.  They misbehave in whispers leading me from my troubles.

Writing  Prompt #189 Dreams Impossible 

“There’s a yak.  The thing is huge, as tall as a windmill.  I’m asking it about the used bookstore down the street.  The one with the green exit doors.  So this is where it gets weird….” Larry pauses to recollect the thought. 

“Not weird at all.  You fell into a MC Esther print. Did you take the upstairs to the basement or fire escape to the roof?” Penny hates the dream game.

“I’m talking to the yak and this hand appears behind him.  It is closed like there’s something in the hand.  The wrist flicks up and marbles fly everywhere!”  Larry moves his hand to demonstrate. “Then this Viking goddess starts winding a old phonograph that plays a song about doing absurd things to achieve impossible things.  Oh, the goddess has only a head and arms.”

“How do you know she was a Viking goddess?  Maybe she was part of a dance troupe.  Would a Viking goddess have a record player?” Penny knows this is the way it goes every time.

“You’re right.   She would have done kind of stringed instrument… Wait, she’s a goddess.  They live forever.” Larry stumbles on reason.

“Good, you figured it out.  Don’t sleep again, please.”  Penny answers “I have tried the absurd and haven’t accheived  any impossible results.”

Written as part of a challenge details are available at

A Place of Healing – Tale Weaver #96

“Ok listen this time! I’m from Erie, Pennsylvania.  We are in Colorado.  I didn’t walk here!” The voice leaves bare lips.

“The where and when are coming from different places.   You will search for why!   But the where simply changes”  The chocolate Buddha speaks. “Hearing and listening aren’t the same.”

“I didn’t  come here by my own free will.   I was thousand miles away.   And boom!  I’m here talking to a statue!  This is where thing.   I like to know where exactly I am now.   And if you don’t mind what day and time is it.  I’m not lulling myself into believing in was beamed here.”  I’m openly hostile.   I point to the ground like it matters.   My heart is full of fear more than rage.

“You  came  here to free yourself of the chaos and chains you have forged.  Everyone does. That’s why we have the farm.  We grow here.  If you open your mind more than your mouth. You will see there’s no fear necessary here.  Walk the paths. Concentrate on where you are attempting to go.”  The Buddha changes arm position so to show the symbol of the message.

“LOOK! I want to go back to my home.   Now, tell me how I got here!”  My reasoning with a statue hats the wall quickly.   My head looks for cameras.  Someone is controlling this thing.   They know.  They have taken the wrong person. 

“Free, you are not bound here.   The only person controlling you being here is you.  Are you experiencing paralysis?  My eyes see no strings on you!   I asked you to take a path of your choosing.  I didn’t force you to move.  Your choice stay here and ask something I do not control.  You found a path here. It is my place to give answers that open your mind and heart.   Do you know your mind well enough to find your way?” The statue returns to original form.  

“So, do the little guys help me too?  I’ll walk a path.   But I’ll be back.   Unless the way opens before me.”  I sink into cyincial territory.

The statue fails to respond.

I stroll toward the gate.   Above the sign reads  “A PLACE OF HEALING”

I am unaware of the wounds that brought me here.   I don’t forsee understanding the purpose of being here.   I could use another pill to control the manic swing grading hold of me.  They must have taken them away from me.
Written as part of a challenge called Tale weaver, details at

Meant To Be 

My soul has washed up on

    time’s beach out of place 

My eyes pale and change green to blue

I remember things I have not seen 

I’m certain the corner ahead

    hides my past from view

Shadows cone to greet me 

   with flashes previous

Falth whispers  ” meant to be ”

  ears assemble pieces together

Thousand puzzles with no image

    descend  into view

Tallowed like a glove, they all fit ideally 

Their embrace frees fear to conquer anew

It could be madness or immaculate  

    that fills me now

A mirrors image either way to inner                journeys beyond maps

I was destined to arrive here eventually 

Fields of dreams tucked in beds under

    mystical mountains 

I’m a fulfilled spirit walking amongst

     wishes and prayers

Under a star filed blanket I pause to                reflect the 

History taught me about time and place 

Nature slipped my place  through time

I understand divinity is destiny

   is meant to be 

Voyage into the New World 

I sail a black Sea

Stars burn as centuries

They hold  the sky in place

I ride stone waves of ancient seas

My path among the darkness

New lights shine in the distance

Waiting to see them is painful

Faith tells me they glow like Sun drops

High above the Valley is my new world

I pass through portals  of time 

Time fails to notice me

My sea parts smoothly

Here at the future

Twisted Dreams

“I feed on your thoughts.” A dark room resonates with a calm voice. “I feed on your thousands of thoughts.  The conscious, the unconscious…. those you prefer not share.  Oh those are my favorite ones.”

I sitting up in bed.  I startle the wife and two cats go flying to parts unknown. 

My heart pounds.  My breath in a place I can’t find.  My chest heavy.  My ears tired.  My mind twisted like a skein of old yarn.  Fog hangs. 

I search for the voice.  It hides. Was it even there?   What does ‘I feed on. Your thoughts mean’?  I’m told go to sleep or leave the room. 

I turn to my side.   Twin shadows split.   They have faces with smiles.  In a dark room, I still see this clearly. 

“We feed on your thoughts.   We like the one with that person you see on the way to work.  Oh, does she know what you want to do? She’s smiles back and look down.   Then checks to see where your eyes are, or where you had them.  How many times has she busted you holding on to certain things.  And you just smile back.” The voice splits to two voices.

I  think of her.   I shut her out.   She’s back.  Her smile warns me.  I see her with glowing  hair.   I lose myself in her. 

I flash back.  I never thought of her like that.   Maybe a little.   But I never wondered about how those…  Ok, maybe I did.  But did I linger too long?  

Why am I doing this? 

“We feed on your thoughts!” The voices are insistent.  The sound deeper.  “You know what we need!”

She is back.  Another look.  There’s more of her each time.  She is more inviting.  Tempting.  My heart races.  My mind records every I choose.  Flesh that may never have seen the sun, peeled like a juicy fruit.  

My sleep stops.  My dark room still dark.   The shadows stir again.   I hear noises of the night.   It’s ghostly quiet.

My wife giggles. Soft whisper like sound sides through the darkness.  “I’m not supposed to do that.   Maybe…”

I sit up again.   Three shadows dance.  Faces flush with joy.  

I know.   I know what they feed on.   But hire do I get rid of them.  Do I want to get rid of them?


photo by Rebecca Johnston – here’s a bigger version
He went to sleep with image of the deer and a dream sack from the Dinè spirit shop.  He was told be the deer,think the deer, and find the deer.

When he awake he was the deer and it was the first day of hunting season.
Written as part of a challenge called The line tales, details are available at