Writing Prompt #132 “Collage 10” 

(Bottom Left: Rossatty)

Because blue is how I feel

Under this canopy of stars without you.

I want to feel

Your breath, a staccato of skipping stones, against my neck

I want to feel

a carnival of desires binding us as one.

I want to

 Set my heart upon yours,

Because you will surely be mine.

Written for: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie 


Of Angels and Arias

I leaned in closer

heard death lick the corners of the room,

felt It slink and sift inexorably, and

watched the ebb and flow of breath temper to silence.


Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Week of 11-03 through 11-09-2015. Link to read other contributions. The photograph was provided by Sonya – Only a 100 Words.

Un Petit Poème

Bad news calls early, ringing urgently, getting her out of bed. She knows before she picks up the receiver (Really, she’s known all along. She is not a fool), but still it comes at her like a freight train as she listens to the voice on the other end of the line tell her a story, the kind of story she would read in the afternoon newspaper, the kind of story she would read and wonder about, puzzling out what had gone wrong in other people’s lives. Listening, she steadies her trembling hand by tracing a finger around a photograph on the dresser. Dust collects beneath her finger. Memory floods her carrying her back to the day she took the photograph, a happy moment preserved. She searches the face in the photograph, tracing the halo of hair like a blown dandelion and wonders what went wrong.


Inspiration: The United States has the highest prison population in the world.  Inmates are someones son or daughter.

Write on Edge

Story Dam

22 Things I’ve Done


I have ridden a camel in the Desert between India and Pakistan and listened to camel drivers playing plastic water jugs while singing under a sky thick with stars.

I have held the cold hand of one taking a last breath.

I have answered the call from jail and posted bail.

I have spent time in the city of Paris but never once saw the Eiffel Tower yet gazed upon the Gates of Hell not knowing what I saw.

I have washed thousands of dishes with still thousands more to wash before I’m done.

I have basked in the adrenaline of winning and taken on the challenge offered by defeat.

I have roller skated across the Golden Gate Bridge.

I have kept my dreams to myself

Via: Vladimir BAZAN

I have listened to 130 student piano recitals and clapped for my children and children I don’t know, praising  their courage to perform.

I have sat in bleachers at major league baseball games and thrilled to the energy of a crowd watching their home team win.

I have given money to the homeless when I myself did not have a home.

I have seen dead bodies in the streets of a city under siege.

I have danced on stadium walls at Gratetful Dead concerts

I have blown bubbles to make a three-year-old laugh at a dog bitting bubbles.

I have embraced four newborn babies slippery from birth, forgetting instantly the pain it took to bring them into the world.

I have watched fire burn uncontrollably.

I have planted trees.

I have endured raising teenagers.

I have killed and butchered pigs and chickens.

I have sailed the Blue Lagoon and saw fish leaping from the water and looked into the clear depths of the sea.

I have been lucky.

I have lived  by candle light.

Where I am From


I am from a doodle in the margins of your high school history book,  from the fine tip of a yellow Ticonderoga with the keen imagination of a jester.

I am from the chaos of clothes on your bedroom floor whirling like a dervish in layers of purple silk, smooth and decadent.

I am from the lotus blossom floating in a pond, the honey flower delicate on the breeze.

I am from a ship of fools tossed in a wild ocean and wander lust’s passion unleashed. I am from beyond the glass green sea, maddened by drink and Helene’s great beauty while cursed by Paris’s great lust.

I am from the illustrious and incandescent.

From more than all the stars in the night sky and grains of sand on a beach I come to you.

I am from the saintly and devout, ceremonial and pagan.

I’m from across the seas, tea steeped, dark amber, sweetened and creamed.

From the chronicles of Davy Jones locker, with Poseidon in the cast, decisions were made, decks were swabbed and Snuffy made queen for a day and made king of the chain locker for life.

I am from boxes burned, idols stored, and treasures scorned. I am the Saint Christopher buried in your right pocket. I am the winged dimes upon your eyelids opening the gates of heaven.