Sweet as Nectarines – Wordle

Week 157.png

1. Blood

2. Despair

3. Woman

4. Seek

5. Seclusion

6. Willowy (adj.) Lithe, graceful, slender)

7. Beaten

8. Aware

9. Nectarine

10. Scaffold

11. Wolf

12. Mimeomia ((n.) the frustration of knowing how easily you fit into a stereotype, even if you never intended to, even if it’s unfair, even if everyone else feels the same way—each of us trick-or-treating for money and respect and attention, wearing a safe and predictable costume because we’re tired of answering the question, “What are you supposed to be?”)

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

Moon beaten, a willow woman leaves her seclusion. Inside her blood beaten by despair induces a walk to the scaffold. Self aware of the will es surrounding her.  They see her mimeomia as sweet as nectarines.

Writtenas part of a challenge called Wordle, detailsavailable at https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1475648297

Time Shadows

Time left me still 

Details have subtly faded 

The cold light of then, now shines

Like rid yourself of ghosts 

What if it’s you there’s no belief in

Memories are gilded cages 

Feelings cling Like cobwebs 

Their sticky threads still have teeth 

To purge the light is the only cure 

Creating shadows that obscure sundials 

Time uses distance against me 

I’m robbed of judgement 

Memories fill feelings into missing parts

Was the you, you back then? 

Or has me changed whom I was too?

Postcard – FFAW

I stand at the roadside. 

The sea slides so softly against the sand.  Bisbee Bay, a mecca of gentle summer days that last forever.  Whose touch on the memory vanish like morning dew. 

I state into a postcard.

Gone are the floats of plastic trash.  No Styrofoam cups or grocery bags. The place is smaller now.  My eyes aren’t the same.  The smell is different.  The people aren’t families.  Their faces carry weight of misery.
I get back in my car. Going back is not always a good idea.

Written as part ofa challenge called Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writersttps://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/05/22/fffaw-challenge-week-of-may-23-2017/

Impression

What impression have I made?

Have I left a mold for precious metals?

Footprint squished into a riverbank?

Did I choose wax or steel to cast from?

Will I be lucky enough to be a fossil?

Will the next storm wash me away?

Time is no test man passes 

Is an anonymous legacy, a legacy at all

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

Demeter’s Tears ComplimentaryPo.em

While orange taloms of dawn scratch at fading moonscape

Demeter’s tears fall like shooting stars

Each droplet a new life founded 

Each droplet new visions seen

Widening landscape of inherrent possibilities 

Probability washes among rainbow beaches

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

Future Pasts Complimentary Po.em

Days of reckoning, days of glory?

Finish lines in moving sand

Vaulting into hyperspace

Passing future pasts 

Foot race to reason

Across ribbon candy fantasy land

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

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

What If – Encounters

I poke at the fire. Deep red and orange embers spit flames skyward.  As the flames grow thinner, the realization of more wood needs found. 

“Damn it! I should have did this before it got dark.” I see my heat source dwindling before my eyes.  

Dawn is several hours away.  My camp hid well with a pine grove.  I must venture forth to where the wild things roam.  My way guided by the worst flashlight ever and the pale glow of Eris. 

The Moon has long turned in for the night. The false silver light of Moon2 as it was called during its building.  Mankind’s solution to energy build a second Moon.  The crazy light show on its surface was beautiful until they told us it was pieces breaking off and streaming back to Earth.

My third spark has sailed overhead.  They tell us it’s just normal. No one has ever been hit by one of these pieces.  

“Who the hell would know I was hit it here?” I keep eyes open for anything out here.   We used to worry about coyotes and bears.  

This is the last crumb of avoiding civilization. The government will covert this to receiving station for that damn Eris. The greater good.  So we at told.

I leave my little corner for an arm full of wood.  Just enough to keep warm.  Just enough to give me the peace of wilderness. The woods have been cleaned of anything bigger than a twig. 

A light flashes in green behind me. A wave of heat. A sound like an exploding building.  My legs feel the ground shudder.

My vantage point is sparse trees in an island against open darkness.  I can see light from something below a ridge I was unaware of before.  Mechanical sounds whirl.  Static and broke words burst forth. None are clear.  I search for a path to get me closer.

A lonely motor winds.  I hear treads click and blacking. Voices rise but never clear the commotion. 

I walk through scrub oaks. I snap an occasional branch. I was walking by rolling feet to not annouce my presence.  A half mile hike takes less time when you stop breathing from fear of being heard.

“Billy!  The cage.  We need the cage out here now! They’re coming in from North in 130 seconds.” The deep voice crawls through the still night. 

My eyes reach the edge.   A pit that collapsed to reveal gated under ground.  Two cages ten feet tall with twice the length and width gleem in low light.  In one corner, a small grey man tends to something inside. 

A green glow blinds me. Whispers of wind spill on to me.  

“They’re real! Oh shit….They are real!” I try to stay quiet.  The scaly hand on my shoulder tells me I wasn’t quiet enough. 

“Billy! We got a peeper!” The thing attached yells out.

The small grey man looks up suddenly. He walks over to see my body hanging in the air.  His tall friend keeping me off the ground by hanging me like a towel.

“Put him on with the others. We need to get these humans off our planet.  I told you they hid like rats. They know it’s illegal but they still come out here.”

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/11/tale-weaver-119-what-if-11-05-17/

Photo Challenge -Tea leaves

I bask in her warmth.  My mind holds those moments that are special because they are our moments.   There is a certain calmness that stills my heart.  

The night drifts by.  Time is a ceiling fan counting by whoosh sounds.   Light stays at bay. 

My dreams morph.   Subtly I’m drawn away.  Her face warn and kind grows.   Her smile looks more relaxed.  I twist to better see whay keeps me whole.

The warmth returns. Strange white shiny walls curve up from below. I feel like am burning.  Parts of me break free and float off.  Her smile twists more profound.  

Being someone cup of tea is not always good