End of the Road 

A knock on the door.  Followed by six more.   Staccato wraps follow the first soft touch.  A solitary light shone in a living room. 

The full moon rises.   It lights the last house on the pavement.   The road falls to gravel and disappears into the woods.  The woods reaches around the simple house and its barn.  The white glow of the moon paints it better in the night than the Sun.  The door hides within a small porch, shrunk by the boxes and tables stacked around. 

The hand rises again.  The knocks continue six at a time.  Staccato beats. 

“Hang on baby! hang on…. We’ll get you help.” Brian looks down.   A face looks back.

“No one will open the door… it’s too late they’ll never open the door.” Connie voice fades.   Her jeans covered in blood.   The yellow t-shirt dirt covered and suddenly wore out. “It’s cold.  Maybe there’s blanket in this stuff.   Maybe morning…”

“I see someone.  They are in there.   They’ll help us.” Brian wipes his head.  A streak of blood runs down fron his forehead.  His face shows he doesn’t think help is coming. 

Brian returns to the door.  A series of knocks continues.   Each becoming a little more panic stricken. “Hello?! We need help.   Just call the police…  anything! Please!”

Connie is on the wooden porch. She is sitting against soft boxes that lean over toward her a bit.  She’s scared but holding on a brave front. “Sit next to me.  The morning.. They’ll see us.”

Shuffling sounds inside stop her.   The dragging and stopping catch their attention.  The door had three little boxes that show how dark the inside is but little else.   

“If you open that door, I’ll kill you both. Shotgun is in my hands.” The voice followed by a tapping on the other side of the door. “You live to see tomorrow…. I’ll habe to deal with Y’all then.   Stop banging or you’ll wake up the Dead!”

The shuffling starts again.   This time fading away.   The single light flashes out.   

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/

You’ll Fry

“You’ll fry!” Burger shrilly screams. 

The crowd jeers.  Frantic spectators mix anxiety and anticipation.  

Sizzles and pops fill the air as the burning starts.  Trapped in a basket as the world goes black. 

These are the final moments of a French fry 
<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/fry/”>Fry</a&gt;

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>

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.

Dear Death 


We spend our time hiding 

From what, do we ever know? 

Shadows tugging at our heels 

Or a scythe swinging unseen

Some hide from possible life 

The taker of last breathes 

You will run to catch me 

I’ll not go quietly into the night 

Good or bad, Dawn will be waiting

Look not for me Death 

I’ll return the favor

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/04/16/writing-prompt-203-letters-to-death/

Ooh death
Whooooah death
Won’t you spare me over ‘til a another year?

Well what is this that I cant see 
With ice cold hands taking hold of me

Well I am death none can excel 
I’ll open the door to heaven or hell
Whoa death someone would pray 
Could you wait to call me another day

Ralph Stanley,  “Oh Death”

https://g.co/kgs/eKvdUs


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.