Extinguished - Magpie Tale #34

Magpie Tales hosts a weekly writing prompt, the challenge is
to write a small vignette or poem using the photo below as your inspiration.

E X T I N G U I S H E D

The night will sweep in unannounced, for the lantern will not be lit tonight.

No warm glow to shine in the unforgiving windows, no gentle warmth to kindle hope.

The moths will bump and fizzle elsewhere, they will not meet their doom here tonight.

The porch will be dark and its emptiness will ring and echo like a cavern. . . and homecomings will be forgotten.

It will be cold and unwelcoming here tonight.

And the path that leads to our door will not be lit by the liquid yellow pools that declared the love that waited inside the cold stone of what was once a home.

And the gate will not open and shut with a satisfying click, and the rest of the world will not be left outside the fence.

No, not tonight.
.

The times they are a changing - Three Word Wednesday

Three Word Wednesday where you write something using the three prompt words.

This week's words are engulf, imminent, tamper

THE TIMES THEY
ARE A CHANGING

freedoms ferocious roar

is no longer distant

it is hurtling head long

toward my small self

open armed and willing

my surrender bears fruit

and it will engulf me
and I will dance

and the words will be echoing

in empty places and deaf ears

evolve or die, bare faced, naked
its imminent arrival looms

there's no need to tamper

with the mechanics

go where it's going

follow the flow

just let go
and ride

.

Backbone - Carry on Tuesday #72

This weeks prompt for Carry On Tuesday is ...
'It started out as a feeling which then grew into a hope'

B A C K B O N E

She
felt
it
start
inside
her
.
and
crawl
naked
up
her
spine
.
clinging
to
her
on
the
inside
.
It
started
out
as
a
feeling
.
which
then
grew
into
a
hope
.
up
through
the
dark
inner
spaces
.
a
tiny
seed
seeking
the
light
.

Also shared at the poetry pantry at poets united.

Microfiction Monday #50

This weeks picture prompt from Microfiction Monday at Stony River

The task: a tweetable 140 characters or fewer inspired by the picture below...

She was so glad that in spite of everything she'd never given up.
Patience had paid off and now here it was!
Her ship was coming in at last.

.

Love - Sunday Scribblings prompt 234

Written for Sunday Scribblings prompt 234 - LOVE

L O V E -1980's style

You loved me despite
the blustering bravado
that carried me forward
all hormones and big hair
dramatic black eyes that
Siouxsie would have loved
I was eighties chic and wore
the fishnet tights to prove it
crimpers were vital for styles
that screamed of quantity and
winklepicker shoes carried me
through those long long nights
in dark corners of seedy bars
where the music was too loud
and the mohicans moved and all
of my dreams were coming true....

Also shared at the poetry pantry at poets united.

True Story - Sunday 160

I am back again participating in Monkey Mans - Sunday 160 - where you must use only 160 characters (including spaces) and post on Sunday.

T r u e S t o r y

Before saying goodbye to the place for the last time,
she visited her beloved garden - and saw the
moss heart growing where she used to sit.

.

Birthday - Saturday Centus Week 21

Week 21 of Saturday Centus
this weeks prompt is to use up to 100 words
(not including the prompt) using the line . . .
He never dreamed when he blew out the candles on his cake

B I R T H D A Y

He never dreamed when he blew out the candles on his cake the fiasco that would ensue! If he hadn't been wearing the joke teeth and false beard combo, then it could all have been avoided, (it was easy to realise that in hindsight). He had taken a big breath and as he blew, the teeth shot out and landed slap bang in the middle of Marjorie's much slaved over sherry trifle. He then leaned in to retrieve them and the beard caught fire! Well you can imagine the scene... and Polly did the only thing she could and liberally doused him in lemonade as Marjorie valiantly tried to resurrect the trifle.

(exactly 100 words) .

No Waiting - Friday Flash 55

My first time joining in with Friday Flash 55.
This is a true story from earlier this week, I hope you have had your breakfast. ;-)

No Waiting

The doctors waiting room was silent until the young child gripping the table holding the magazines yelled. . . Mum. . . Poo!

I stared, expecting the mother to grab her hand and whisk her off to the toilet

. . . then I noticed the childs look of concentration

. . . the red face

. . . and the nappy

and knew it was too late!

.

Suspicion - Magpie Tales #33

http://magpietales.blogspot.com hosts a weekly writing prompt, the challenge is

to write a small vignette or poem using the photo below as your inspiration.

S U S P I C I O N

Those dark places

the tightly shuttered screen
I know just where it is you've been

Those perfumed wrists

did you know that I can tell
the disguise you use to mask your smell

Destiny - Three Word Wednesday

Three Word Wednesday where you write something using the three prompt words.

This week's words are gait, nudge, ripen

D E S T I N Y
She altered her gait to match his, lengthening her stride as they crossed the steel bridge with clanging footsteps and anticipation. The afternoon was heavy with the scent of blossom and the curious dragonflies that shadowed her were iridescent and shimmered like spun glass as they danced in the air around them.

They stepped on to the winding path and their footfalls were softened by the springy grass underfoot. She felt her excitement building when she heard the drums in the distance and the soft ethereal sound of the flute blowing on the breeze. The pale blue sky peeped through the canopy of fresh green leaves, dappled and lit with sunlight, they threw a kaleidoscope of light filled shapes at her feet as she walked.

He was there, strong and silent beside her as always, his silver hair a striking contrast against his cloak of the deepest blue velvet. He had slowed his pace and the flickering sunshine on his face threw his features into sharp relief. She was so glad that this day had come and that he was there to walk this path with her.

It had taken many years to gain the knowledge, to ripen her understanding so that it may now bear the fruit of the lineage she was born into, and now she was finally ready and felt the joy rise through her body like a thousand white butterflies heading toward the light.

They were getting close and the sounds of the drums seemed to be beating in time with her heartbeat, the rhythmic cadence of the flute echoing her breath. She heard the soft chanting and it pulled her forward through the twisting branches and out into the clearing. She was finally there...

Silence fell as soon as she appeared and the circle was hushed, ribbons decorating the four quarters lifted and fell in the breeze, it was the only movement in this sacred place. The trees were draped in garlands and the smell of sweet incense permeated the air. The faces of those gathered were turned toward her and she saw the expectation in their waiting eyes.

She felt him behind her and heard his soft breathing.

"It is time" . . . his rich voice reverberated around the silent grove.

The women began the gentle chant and heart beat drums joined the wash of sound that swirled around her as she looked down at her white gown and the girdle she had so intricately woven with delicate spring flowers. She could feel the weight of responsibility hanging in the air.

From the corner of her eye she saw him walk forward to stand by her side, he looked deep in her eyes and slowly nodded his head before reaching out and with a gentle hand gave her an almost imperceptible nudge forward.

She was unable to move, rooted to the spot for what seemed an age.

. . . and then from out of the shadows came the dragonflies, effervescent and joyful as they cut the heavy air with their light, they bought their sparkling energy, their magic and their blessings. It was the sign she was waiting for and her heart leapt and she smiled and stepped forward into the waiting circle and her destiny.
.

Clean - Sunday Scribblings #233

Written for Sunday Scribblings prompt 233 - clean

C L E A N

I have been dirty

but now I am clean

I have been invisible

but now I am seen

I have been confused

but now I am clear

I have been far away

but now I am near

I have been my ego

but now I'm my soul

I was broken in pieces

but now - I am whole

For more on the subject of clean - read my Magpie tale
- it seems to be a trending topic this week!

Image - Susannah Bec

Microfiction Monday #49

This weeks picture prompt from Microfiction Monday at Stony River

The task: a tweetable 140 characters or fewer inspired by the picture below...

He was high
as he watched
the people go by
and the sky was blue
and the pink clouds
were swirling and
he wanted this
moment to last
F O R E V E R

Shadows - Sunday 160

My first time participating in Monkey Mans - Sunday 160 - where you must use only 160 characters (including spaces) and post on Sunday.

Lately, I have been unsettled by the shadows
those fleeting glimpses at the periphery of my vision
for there seem to be ghosts living in the corner of my eye...

,

Fisherman - Writers Island Prompt 21

This was written for Writer's Island
prompt 21 - Fisherman

. . There is stillness on the banks

. . . . . . ..... . ..... . .of the flat shallow lake

. . . . . . ..... . beneath the towering branches
. . . . . . ..... . under the wide open skies
. . . . . .with the sun beating down
. . . and the gentle rain falling
and the birds singing

he sits and whistles
. . . . . . and he watches
. . . . . . ..... . and he waits

and the watching sky is full of silk
. . . and the spinning threads reach down
. . . . . . . . . . ..... . .and wind him round, binding him
. . . . . . . . . . . ...weaving him into the tapestry
. . . . . . ..... . in readiness for the cocoon
. . . . that will give him back
when the day is done

Shifting Sand - Magpie Tales #32

http://magpietales.blogspot.com hosts a weekly writing prompt, the challenge is
to write a small vignette or poem using the photo below as your inspiration.

. . . S h i f t i n g S a n d . . .

The kitchen was her much longed for shiny dream... all polished granite worktops and artfully shaped taps delicately hovering over a sink so new she hardly dared use it.

She didn't want water splashes ruining that perfect surface. It had suddenly seemed very important that she shouldn't, mustn't do anything to mar its gleaming newness.

She perched on one of the new impossibly high kitchen breakfast bar stools that she had yearned for while poring over the brochure, they had looked so beautiful almost like sculptures and 'just perfect for the space' but under her ample bottom it felt spindly and unwelcoming.

She surveyed her new domain from her teetering vantage point and when she noticed how the slant of sunlight bought out little glittering flecks of quartz in the granite, she felt a real rush of joy... but just as quickly her mood plummeted and her heart fell like a stone as she noticed the crumbs...

She knew she was being irrational as soon as the prickling tears began, but he had known that she hadn't used the toaster yet - she hadn't wanted to right away, they could have cereal for breakfast she thought, just until.... until it felt ok for her to use it.

He must have deliberately made himself toast to spite her before he left for work. She fought back the sobs as she carefully swept the crumbs into her hands and took them over to the bin. It was proving too much for her and she visibly crumpled as she pressed the stylish button that opened the lid to the most beautiful bin she had ever seen and realised that she didn't want to put anything in it.

She held onto the door frame with one hand, the other clung grimly to the crumbs as she made a snap decision and headed outside into her neglected garden and opened her clammy hand and brushed the three tiny crumbs onto the grass.

.

Individual - Three Word Wednesday

Three Word Wednesday where you write something using the three prompt words.

This week's words are demure, offend, volatile

I N D I V I D U A L
She was never one for pastels, her colours were bold
too volatile to have ever been considered demure
she screamed when others merely whispered
it was not her intention to offend, it was just her way

August bought forth a fiercely individual spirit
she couldn't, wouldn't, dull her shine for anyone
her voltage was high, she contained the electricity
but you could still hear it, popping and crackling

Under the shiny surface a golden heart was beating
as it pumped the ruby red lifeblood through her veins
Dancing flames licked around her head, a fiery halo
while all around her ankles the angry ocean roared

She walked the winding road, with bells on her fingers
and rings on her toes, painted toenails gleaming against
the rich dark earth, a carefully thought out disguise
that fluttered through the blank pages awaiting her pen

She came alive when poured into words, she breathed...
sentences became her tree lined avenues of expression
and houses filled with buddhas and peacock feathers
sprung fully formed from her swift and elegant fingers

For more of my poems
please visit Out of My Ocean

Microfiction Monday #48

This weeks picture prompt from Microfiction Monday at Stony River

The task: a tweetable 140 characters or fewer inspired by the picture below...

Eileen had the gun and Jenny the plane tickets.
After the bank job they took the three million pounds
and headed straight for the bahamas.,

Treatment - Sunday Scribblings # 232

Written for Sunday Scribblings prompt 232 - Treatment - this is part three of an ongoing story...
Part two - prompt - Wait - Read it here
Part one - prompt - Faith - Read that here

T R E A T M E N T

He had once sat her down in the corner of laroks bar, twisting his glass on the sticky table as he tried to explain that jumble of feelings she engendered in him.

He told her of the longing each time she left the smoky bar and walked out into the sparkling night without him. He reminded her that he was only half a person when she was not there, of how much he wanted to possess her to make her his and for her to stop her wandering and stay with him.

He talked of the dreams he had about her...

She sat very still for once, static except for the lights from the games machines that flickered across her porcelain skin and she listened intently to his words. She let him finish before turning her chair toward him and whispering in that throaty voice of hers.

Look honey, that is your play, your game and there aint no treatment for that...you got the medicine. I'm just the screen you are throwing these projections onto, you don't want me, you want what I represent. Find it inside yourself honey...

She got to her feet like a ballet dancer and kissed him gentle on his cheek and before he could say another word she was gone, out into the sparkling night alone.
.

I Have - Magpie Tales # 31

http://magpietales.blogspot.com hosts a weekly writing prompt, write a small vignette or poem using the photo below as your inspiration.

I H A V E

I have closed my eyes
and cut the ties
that bind me
to you

I have snipped and
cauterised the
fraying ends
with fire

I have asked forgiveness
for the hurt I caused
and I have forgiven
you in turn

I have mentally released
you and said goodbye
but it seems you
have never left

.For more of my poems
please visit Out of My Ocean

Packaged - Three Word Wednesday

Three Word Wednesday where you write something using the three prompt words.

This week's words are charm, feast, robust

P A C K A G E D

I am bound around with sticky tape marking me fragile

this sturdy parcel of me is not robust, It bends and tears

If I am handled roughly, little things inside me shatter

I'm swaddled in wadding. . . the extra padding helps

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

If I am handled with care, moved gently, not jolted

my tune plays, the ringing charm of me begins to sing

the air becomes light and sparkles, fractured with laughter

the peaceful gliding doves land and feed without danger

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Scattered seed, strewn like confetti a feast on the dark earth

the soft grey feathers of them, a balm that dresses all wounds

dark night swooping, falling in graceful folds around my neck

the tattered, battered, packaging of me falls gentle at my feet

H A N D L E W I T H C A R EH

For more of my poems
please visit Out of My Ocean

Wait - Sunday Scribblings Prompt 231

Written for Sunday Scribblings prompt 231 - Wait
This is a follow on from last weeks prompt
You can read last weeks here

W A I T
He heard the horns and saw her running.

He yelled her name but she had already gone, zig zagging her way through the cars along the busy road leaving chaos in her wake.

Dashing off down the dimly lit side street with her big leaping strides and hair flowing behind her she was a mythical creature and he was in awe.

He wanted to run after her, chase her down and grab her slender limbs, turning her to face him so he could see his reflection dancing in her wild animal eyes.

He wanted to ask her one more time to wait, but he knew it would be pointless.

She never waited for anyone...

My Terrain - Carry on Tuesday #69

This weeks prompt for Carry On Tuesday is - 'You don’t know about me.....'

MY T E R R A I N
You don't know about me. . .
you only get to see my surface
that bright and shiny exterior
I put on every day like a coat

I dress myself for the outside world
so I don't stand out in the crowds
I am camouflaged and disguised
hidden under the persona I wear

this inner landscape is a vast one
there are shifting sands and bedrock
winding stairs, attic rooms, basements
and mirrors where every reflection is me

Did you know that I could get lost in there?
lose my map and my footing, drop the torch
the light I carry to disperse all the shadows
there is SO much you don't know about me

For more of my poems
please visit Out of My Ocean

Microfiction Monday #47

This weeks picture prompt from Microfiction Monday at Stony River

The task: a tweetable 140 characters or fewer inspired by the picture below...

She paid for the etching and took it home.
She had to buy it, nothing else had ever
come this close to summing up
the way she felt before.
.

Timing - Writers Island prompt 19 - Breakthrough

This was written for Writer's Island
Prompt 19 - Breakthrough

T I M I N G
The slow ticking morning
became etched
with her thoughts.

Scratched deep
into the very fabric
of the moment.

Every passing minute,
masquerading
as an hour.

Walls were built,
brick by silent brick,
as she waited

for the breakthrough
that never
came.

For more of my poems
please visit Out of My Ocean

.

That Night - Saturday Centus week 18

Week 18 of Saturday Centus this weeks prompt is to use up to 100 words (not including the prompt) using the line It was a dark and stormy night. Here's mine. . .

That Night
The air was jagged with unspoken things, it made her catch her breath as they avoided eye contact in the rapidly shrinking room. She caught his tight jawed reflection in the misted window pane and the candles flickered in the icy air.

The sharp knock cut into the atmosphere echoing around the newly silent walls. He tipped back his head as he drained his glass and in seeming slow motion he walked over and opened the door. It was a dark and stormy night out there, very fitting she thought, as the room swam around her and the wind howled and rattled the window panes...
.

Too Late - Magpie Tales # 30

http://magpietales.blogspot.com hosts a weekly writing prompt, write a small vignette or poem using the photo below as your inspiration. This is mine. . .

T O O L A T E

Just one bite.

That's what started it.

The whole avalanche of feelings that roared up from the tight knot in her stomach, banging and echoing like thunder in her chest as her breath came thick and fast.

She could feel the scream coming before she heard it. Her throat tight, constricted, she kept swallowing and swallowing, trying to force it back down to that place inside her where it had lived for years.

But it was too late...

This time she could not silence the voice that had been kept too long in the dark.

Too late.

Too late.

Too late.

Blood pumping, throbbing through her head, her vision blurred.

Too late.

Too late.

Too late.

She could hold it no longer, she felt the gate at her throat finally open and she threw back her head and when the scream came it was like a howl, powerful and primal.

He recoiled in horror, pushed back, assaulted by all that sound contained.

He was still chewing.

Unable to swallow it now.

He knew that in taking that bite out of her apple he had just handed her the final straw.
.

Kiss - Thursday Think Tank Prompt 13

Poets United holds a weekly poetry prompt
The Thursday Think Tank
This weeks prompt word is

K I S S

I felt you before I saw you
that shiver, that tingle

you reached out
you touched me

sparks ignited
you felt it too

Your eyes darkened
I held your gaze
and returned it

such electricity

flame becomes fire
it seeks expression

intense energy
set in motion

Pulled into your arms
your warm cheek
your hot breath

your kiss

For more of my poems
please visit Out of My Ocean

THEM - Three Word Wednesday

Three Word Wednesday
where each week you write something
using the three prompt words.
This week's words are . . .
break, negative, surface

T H E M
She was
luminous, lit up
she bent like a willow
so that she wouldn't break
touching the ground
with green fingers
she was reaching
down into the
earth

he
studied
the negative
stroking the surface
polishing the reflections
and making them
shine

Between them
the electrons flowed
completing a circuit
so much electricity
you could feel it
crackling
in the
air

.