Wait, she says.
Just a sec’, she says.
Just let me do
What I’m doing
Another moment.
I need a moment
Don’t you see
To convince my
Brain and body
To alter course.
I don’t love
What I’m doing.
I don’t hate what
You’re doing.
I just need a sec’.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “wait.”
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
All the writers were stirring, wielding the mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
Granting the wordsmiths time to gather their stories;
The characters spoke, the events wove themselves,
As visions of internal worlds danced in their heads;
With fingers flying o’er keys and herbal tea at the ready,
The writers settled into the quiet and let the stories grow,
From all that typing there arose such a clatter,
Words sprang from the fingers like prancers and dancers.
Away through the night they typed like a flash,
Tore open their hearts and threw down the tale.
The story done, they rose from their chairs,
And exclaimed, ere they went to their beds,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “gathering stories.”
A river filled my dreams,
A river with clear pools,
Swift currents,
And rocky rapids.
Bright layers of rock
Formed a wall
A narrow container
Climbing to the sky
Far above
Beyond the water
Beyond the rocks
Was endless pearly blue.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “a river.”
Rumi was born September 30, 1207. The anniversary of his birth is coming up on Sunday. Since I don’t always post on Sunday, I’m celebrating his life today with this poem by Rumi.
A Star Without a Name
When a baby is taken from the wet nurse,
it easily forgets her
and starts eating solid food.
Seeds feed awhile on ground,
then lift up into the sun.
So you should taste the filtered light
and work your way toward wisdom
with no personal covering.
That’s how you came here, like a star
without a name. Move across the night sky
with those anonymous lights.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic Rumi.
The sky’s an unbroken plate of blue.
Runoff trickles in the arroyos,
Residue from yesterday’s mountain clouds.
The sun leaves precise shadows
On the landscape of trails and brush,
It’s touch is warm, but not burning.
Already, summer’s lost,
On this September morn.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “September morn.”
New phone. Lots of fun.
Play with the settings.
Take some photos.
Make a phone call.
No one can hear me.
It’s the mute button.
Accidentally touched it.
Go read the manual.
Mute ain’t in the manual.
The phone can do it,
But the manual don’t know it.
How ya gonna un-mute?
Touch the same button again?
Yeah, maybe, or maybe not
It un-mutes for a sec
Then all is lost again.
New phone. Not so fun.
Hard to grab.
Gotta watch out for the
damn mute button.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “read the manual.”
The daisy looked at me
Its perfect flower face
A round and cheerful orb
I held its long stem
A wagging tail in hand
And thought of summer sun
Such a simple thing
This daisy-face
To lift my heart
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “perfect flower.”
Grandma, that’s gross
How your veins are big
And all blue
And stick up like that.
Grandma, that’s gross
How those little skin
Thingies poke up
And wiggle like that.
Kid, you should be so lucky
To keep growing long enough
To have big blue veins and
Skin tags and wrinkles.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “blue veins.”
The biddy down the hall
Is really off her rocker
9-1-1 is her favorite call
To report an imaginary stalker
Some of us other old gals
Have searched the place for men
Even checked with other pals
And we just can’t find a way to sin
But the cop who comes by
To soothe and calm the crazy coot
Makes everyone heave a sigh
Maybe I’ll report a stalker on a toot
After learning from Going like Sixty that a biddy is a chicken, I invite you to write your first 50 words on the topic “biddy” in a comment.
I register sun-streaked hair,
Ribbed stretch pants–knee length,
Frilly blue velvet shirt,
Bizarre sunglasses that hide the eyes,
Leather brown skin crinkled like seersucker
And I think, a California girl,
Before I see the cowboy boots.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “California girl.”
