Strangers Waiting for the Plane 

“My friend, we will be here awhile.”  A voice travels to my ear.

I have no friends here.   I’m in lay-over purgatory.  I turn to see a bright smiling face.   A rather Foriegn face but charming British accent. 

“I’m sorry… I was starting at people and didn’t realize who you were talking to.  They told me four hours ago, this flight is the most timely they run.   Travel is hell.” I try to figure the nice man out.  

We simply don’t act this way at home.  My God, he could be a terrorist, or a religious nut, or run a foreign money scam.   The news of full of these types in other countries. 

“Travel is like a present.   You think you know what will be inside.   Then like a flower it opens… simply amazing what happens.   We seldom believe what we know not.” His hands gesture something popping up out of box.   I hate to fly alone. You seem much better than most here.  Calm to the outside.  At least.”

I turn to catalog his features. Dark eyes,  softly set amongst richly tan skin.   Dark hair well controlled at ear length with a bushy mustache.  His crisp cotton shirt  almost glows white.  He has one small carry on bag.  

“I returning from finding a brother who thinks the world is a grand adventure.  He found simple things aren’t simple in other places. I’ll be the first to tell him how wrong he is…” My voice falters.   Why am I telling a stranger this?

“He is good to have you.  Someone to go when he needs. I have to deliver things to family.   I’m the only one who has the time.” His dark eyes lock into me. “I will find other things.  Make this a real trip for me.”

“Oh.  You been to the States before?” My mind erupts.  A real live terrorist.   There’s a bomb not even five feet away from me.

“No. The place scares me.  Kilometers to travel.  We do not drive like that.   But must see something.  When I deliver this, I am then free. Free to travel.” His smile is truly a master weapon. 

I freeze.   What dies one say you a mad killer. 

“Where are you going?  I have traveled a bit.” I fake friendliness.   My eyes look for security personnel.   

“You are tense all of a sudden.   I will be in Seattle.  We are on the same flight.  I didn’t mean to…. cause you any discomfort.  Strangers sometimes want their space.”  He smiles that damn friendly smile. 

“I’m sorry.   I’m a bit tired.   Didn’t mean to push you away. ”  My lies get deeper.  

He sits foward and speaks  “I’ll return.”

I watch him walk over to a security person bag in tow.  They smile and talk.   The smiles disappear. They both look my way. 

I’m no terrorist! 
Written as part of a challenge called Tale Weaver https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1436456071

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

Tea for Two

“I don’t get it?! She up in left.” Marty’s hand shakes the phone. “We just got here. i took her to Reading the Tea Leaves, just like you said. Seriously, Darla what kind of freak did you set me up with?”

The phone starts quiet for too long.  

“Ok, she loves the place.  What else happened? She goes there every week. What did you say?  or do?” Darla half asks 

“We ordered and say down.   I put down the little table flag with 19 on it….” Marty doesn’t get to finish.

“Nonadecaphobia. I should have told you. Sorry, she doesn’t do well with signs.   You know how it is.” Darla explains. 

“No. No, I don’t.” Marty hangs up

The Moon –

I run.  A staggered path weaves between rock, trees and cactus.  My enemy is above.  I feel the eyes scanning the landscape. 

“Shadows are my friend.” I whisper to my fellow creatures of the night. “I will sleep on safety beneath your own nose!”

I want to laugh.  But sound travels to easily here.  Its bad enough I see my quarry.  But it’s myself dug in the hole hunted.   He can’t get what he can’t see.   The plan is working so far.

The clouds thin.  Moonbeams stretch out.  Rays of silver like nails in my coffin.  I hide with my back finding an uncomfortable Saguaro.  I watch the light chase the darkness.   Hope is a thin shadow.

My pulse rises to match a deep thumping heart.  If heartbeats slow maybe I can breath.  But for how long?

I turn my head to look.  

His face smiles back.  An oblivious look or game over expression.  If I could hear him.  I hate the distance between us.  Only in moving do I get to find out who wins this night.

“I would stab at you.  You hide too far away.” I look away from him. “There has always been a man within the Moon.  He stalks us all.   He had always been death. He will always be death.  Tonight, better be someone else’s turn.”

I curl into a ball and wait. 

Written as part of a challenge called Tale Weaver, details available  at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/04/20/tale-weaver-116-the-moon/

Opaque Window of the Soul 


Your intentions are clear 

Why do we dance around them?

Like a broke compass pointing away 

I see the working within better 

Than I see the person you present

Toying and teasing worked years ago 

Long past the point of hoping anymore 

In your mind, justification wins 

In your heart, distance breaks even 

Lost individual adrift on unseen waves 

Tides come and go beneath your world 

Yet you spiral around blaming the rocks 

You merely stayed in the same place 

Everything else surely moved

The opaque window of your 

Colors us to your disliking

One day you’ll open it and see


<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/opaque/">Opaque</a>

Kindred Spirits – Commentary Po.em

Free to explore each other’s 

Kindred  spirits left unbound

Tastes desire longing to run

Full frontal onslaught, eyes wide

Stolen moments lost in amazement

Touching of souls; touching of faces



Another commentary po.em from  Lorraine and myself.  Her words are italicIzed.  More of her words are located at http://myfrillyfreudianslip.wordpress.com and http://25wordsmoreorless.wordpress.com

Coming to life

Your touch illuminates 

I bend like flower to sunlight

Invisible chains hold me fast 

The sense of falling looms

Trepidation gives way to fawning 

Being lost preferable to being found

The pause in breath

The will to forget everything

Same sacrifices in the sense of being

I lean toward the hands 

Desire to be clay molded and fired 

The perfect vessel for you 

Measure of A Man

Brenda stirs a glass of sweet tea.   The spoon bangs repeatedly.

“Your tea is ready.  How do you like the sweetener.” she deadpan her question. 

“It’s awful sweet.   I guess I’ll get used to it.   Dieting sucks.” Ron grabs the glass and walks back to his chair.   The exercise souls be enough in his world.

“I thought 30 grams would be enough.” Brendas voice barely audible. “How much strycnine will it take?! One more glass, maybe.”

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/measure/”>Measure</a&gt;

Wordle #150 – Iris

Week 150.png

1. Count

2. Iris

3. Peak

4. Penny Gush ((n.) Exaggerated stories or tales)

5. Grovel

6. Reflection

7. Assign

8. Mutable ((adj.) subject to change, fickle)

9. Lavish

10. Insignificant

11. Occhiolism ((n.) the awareness of the smallness of your perspective, by which you couldn’t possibly draw any meaningful conclusions at all, about the world or the past or the complexities of culture, because although your life is an epic and unrepeatable anecdote, it still only has a sample size of one, and may end up being the control for a much wilder experiment happening in the next room.)

12. Girl

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

Iris looked upon her lavish girl reflection.  Any insignificant puddle barely assigned peak viewing.  She counted the mutable features.  She groveled at her own penny gush fantasies.   She bristled at the word occhiolism.  It obviously wasn’t her they talked about. 

Spam 

My favorite 

How you misspell you(ouu) 

I marvel that my depth 

Subjects the world needs 

I pine to fulfill your quest  

knowledge and 

Through that blue 

The world is ours to save

I defy anyone seeing different 

You bring madness to 

Those who don’t want 

To have more followers 

To be drowned in 

If not but to use your help 

My heart skips at the thought 

Imagine the possibilities….