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
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.)
11. Eminent ((adj.) high in station, rank, or repute; prominent; distinguished: conspicuous, signal, or noteworthy: lofty; high: prominent; projecting; protruding.)
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.
“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 https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/12/04/writing-prompt-189-bonus/
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
I’m sinking in your quagmire
Pretending it means something
Pretense that it mattered
I falter in the act of hope
An act of solo solidarity
Solid ground gives after belief dies
Pillars of marble splinter to fill
When the glass has been taken
The Winoow is called a hole in the wall
My foundation was built on pixie dust
Dreams live only where hope and belief dance
The record player is quiet
The band has the day off
I strive to build a bridge
You’ve burnt away the forest
An empty field is what we share
The grass has been pastured
Stubble and rain of tears is left
The fragility of life is a measure
What we need and want
And what we do to keep it
The pixie dust has consumed me
Your quagmire turned quicksand
My house is built on sand
Walls made of dreams
Kaleidoscope paint color
Images of pasts that never were
Thousand clocks waiting on right time
The alarms rusted in situ
Hall is my gallery
Panels show dreams of romance
Distant rooms lay unused
Was I wrong to build a house on Maybe?
This week’s cue is minute.
I became lost in the moment. My mind hovering on the most minute details. If I could hope to hold on to the sliver of time trapped by within one minute.
My eyes want to believe the memory will endure. I collect sixty second scraps of life to build a dream. I know my chances are minuscule.
I tasted you this morning
Sweet as ove ripe pear
Metallic like a bad tooth
Bitter like swallowing pride
I washed away your shadow
Darkness hides your sinews
Light reveals your nothingness
Rasping points gouge skin.
Lost lost caresses of crushed glass
I long to feel the velvet you hid in
Whispers of perfume call out
Excitement dares me closer
Carrion with rose petals
White noise voices tickle the ear
If I listen again, I grow deaf
Empty words fill out your form
All is quiet but the drawing of my breath. Mechanical draw,then click when I exhale. My visor shines with scattered light. Stars distance and rather close sparkle and twinkle. I float through endless space. Blackness overrun by splashes of intense light and heat.
If I could tell, I must be spinning. Trails of light Mark paths to and from clouds of color. Bodies move quickly flirting with my eyes. I pause to catch a glipse…it’s gone. Another glowing form comes toward me.
Internal peace seizes my body and mind. A mechanical breath draws and clicks to exhale. There is no self here. I’m not sure reality is here anymore. There are lights. Points of lights swirl before my eyes. Round dots expand to five points.
“My God, there are alive!” My voice speaks to the lights themselves. My hand reachs up to find a starfish in my hand.
Voices surround me.
“Ashes, ashes we all fall down!” A million children sing slightly off key. Skipping like a vinyl records. Hisses mix in and the bump before it repeats over and over again.
The sky turns into a funnel of light. Calligraphic symbols and letters dance into the abyss. I feel it’s pull. Darkness surrounds me with light dragging me to my end. My arms flail. Swimming in space. I travel slowly as the lights spin faster. I sense the light leaving me behind. Darkness covers me like a blanket. Dreams don’t wait to hold me.
I would scream if there were muscles in me capable of movement. Sounds break the darkness’ grip. Light doesn’t find me. Movement does instead. A great big Planet crashes into my back. The sky cracks like an egg. Tiny shell fragments descend like glitter. High above stars make familiar constellations. One stars departs with a slight tail.
Written as part of a challenge, detail below
photo by Rosan Harmens
You’ll find full guidelines on the TLT page – here’s the tl;dr:
Write three lines inspired by the photo prompt (& give them a title if possible).
Link back to this post.
Tag your post with 3LineTales (so everyone can find you in the Reader).
Read and comment on other TLT participants’ lines.
If you want your post to be included in the round-up, you have until Sunday evening to publish it.
Three Line Tales, Week Twenty-Two
Bonnie perched on the topo map cabinet stretches out her view. Her narrow finger follows the black dotted line past switchbacks, creek beds, and ridges, her mind draws images of forest breaking open to canyon. Now if she could just get a ride there, but this is the dreaming stage.