My secret place is beside a crystalline cave. There are flat, comfortable rocks near the mouth from which I can look at the ponderosas, the oaks, the stream dancing over its stony track. The sky is blue – dark clean blue with piles of bleached white cumulus clouds.
I’ll watch the sky tonight, Scorpio crabbing across the heavens, the Milky Way thick and bright. I’ll sleep while the owls and mice play out their game of survival. I’ll wake as the sun streams in through the cave entrance to light my crystal hideaway with a thousand lights.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “my secret place.”
What I need is an incendiary imagination, one that blazes across the mind and page with images so bright as to cause the reader to squint for protection.
But there just isn’t enough heat in my life. Maybe I can make do with jalapenos until something better comes along.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “incendiary.”
It’s so short
Not fit to snort
Can’t be worn to cavort
Or for a fanciful comport.
So let’s make it long
Stretch it out like a song
Whole notes that belong
To a tune that cannot be wrong.
Mayhaps make it fat
Plopped down serene as a cat
Wide as the sea – make it that,
But never should you make it flat.
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Too damn practical
Got no enthusiasm
No spontaneity, no zest.
I stand accused of this sin.
I am, in fact,
My mother’s daughter,
And so – a secondhand survivor
Of the Great Depression,
That great teacher of
Perhaps an impractical
A backlash against
Common sense would
Help me mend
My sorry practical ways.
Just lead me into impulsivity,
And that cherished
Okay. I’ll become impractical. I’ll do it.
I’ll start as soon as
I change my oil
While it’s still shady
In the driveway.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “practical information.”
all these faces
these shades of
coffee and chocolate
and weak tea and
all these faces
aren’t like mine
my convictions are strained
my humanity is in question
my value to myself teeters
on my ability to
recognizes these faces
as belonging to
individuals of my kind
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Looking at the red stippling under the clouds as the sun rose this morning reminded me of Joni Mitchell and “Both Sides Now.” I wonder if the tops of the clouds are lit with red and orange and yellow as the sun comes up. I wonder what colors one could see if human eyes were sensitive to other colors in the spectrum than the ones we are limited to now. If you were in a plane dipping in and out of the clouds, would you be lit with glowing red light?
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “look at clouds” or on some topic suggested by the photo.
She wanted to hold the baby girl, but there was another and another. All waiting in bassinets stretching into the far corners of the room. She touched her as much as possible while changing her diaper – rubbed her arms and tummy, held her hand, stroked her cheek. So many forgotten and unwanted babies needing to be held. She . . .
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Our neighborhood covenants require keeping your trash barrel in the garage or behind a fence. Keeps the neighborhood neat, it does. Yet walking through the garage to the scent of cantaloupe rinds or decaying chicken skin isn’t fun. That’s why I invented the garage deodorant door plugin. Replace one panel of your garage door with this handy plugin and your garage will never stink again. Only $29.59. Order now and get a mini plugin for your bathroom.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “in the garage.”
The filing cabinet taunts me. Engorged with unpublished stories, rejection letters, poems meant for only me, clips from magazines that actually bought an article, book contracts, book proposals that never made it. It sits there, asking me – reminding me – that I should see if anything is worth a revisit, see if anything can be fixed.
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The Frog Lady, 8
Ron bounded out the screen door and leapt through the giant petrified frog carcasses. Fear-induced paralysis seemed to afflict him. His movement stopped. He turned an eye to look back and saw the towering silhouette of Marian McBride against the bright backdrop of the sky.
She bent to look at him on the ground. “Nice froggy,” she said, and patted his little head.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “an eye.”