Night Walker

martin-adams-XtMICJ6MMJk-unsplash

Photo: Martin Adams on Unsplash

 

She’d appear out of her bed

As if in dream.

An apparition in their kitchen.

A small figure levitating up the stairs

From the nursery,

A flannel nightgown sweeping over the cold floor

And her bare feet.

They might’ve wondered

Why she had become

A somnambulist,

Had they not needed to keep

Any odd thing

Completely clandestine.

So they latched the front door

High,

And kept the very secret

Of her night-walking

Under the covers

Of unspoken sleep.

 

 

 

For the Weekend Writing Prompt: Somnambulist in 78 words

 

 

A Bit Of Stir

mads-schmidt-rasmussen-v0PWN7Z38ag-unsplash

Photo: Mads Schmidt Rasmussen on Unsplash

 

She was always one to cause

Quite a bit of stir

In every entrance,

In the very way the air around

Her every move

Would shift

To agitated waiting,

For something breathless

That was not easily worded

Yet nonetheless remained

Indelibly perceived as

Inescapable.

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: stir

 

Them Poor Bushes

burst-aoN3HWLbhdI-unsplash

Photo: Burst on Unsplash

 

She figures it would be okay.

She figures it would do.

She’ll find her schedule and get back,

Within a month or two.

She figures she could do the task.

She figures it is fine.

She’d done a thing like that before,

Not quite, but in outline.

Still, she figures it a breeze.

She figures she’d succeed.

Even when history, at best,

Is wondering if indeed.

She figures this, she figures that

In neutral all her wheels,

And it becomes impossible

To not begin to feel,

That maybe it’d be easier

To let them bushes be

They’re beat from hedging here and there

And wishing they could flee!

 

 

Note: This was really just for fun and isn’t about (ahem) anyone … So similarity to any individual is (sort of) coincidental … 😉 Dedicated to all the ‘he’ and ‘she’ and ‘you’ and ‘they,’ who won’t say yea and won’t say nay, and leave us all in limbo every day …

For Linda Hill’s SoCS challenge: figure

 

 

Another Woman’s Treasure

LandOfGods18 InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

There’s a hole in that kettle …

I don’t care, don’t throw it.

There’s a hole it that kettle —

This junk won’t make tea.

I don’t care if it’s holey

That pretty, red kettle,

I don’t care if it’s holey

It’s perfect for me! …

 

 

(Yeah, if you noted a bit of reverberation, this is very loosely based on “There’s a hole in the bucket” children’s folk song … ;))

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Junk

 

 

Readied

nicolas-lobos-kGtFjYdm7DI-unsplash

Photo: Nicolas Lobos on Unsplash

 

They donned the new suits

Of exploration

White and fluid for

The deep cold of space

And the vast darkness

Of the Universe.

 

They filed into the

Craft readied to blast

Toward a red Mars

Carrying hope for

Yet another home

In which to draw breath.

 

For the dVerse Haibun poetry challenge: Mars

 

Epoch’s End

sunset Ramon Crater AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

As her eyes finally

Closed

And her breath

Not returned,

She knew

What awaited her

Just

‘Round the bend:

A new journey

Ascends

Life beyond

Epoch’s end.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Epoch in 27 words

Note: Dedicated to all who face the final journey … and thus to all … for we all would. May we walk life’s path the way we can and should.

 

Underneath

morgan-petroski-t8vEpZNSp4c-unsplash

Photo: Morgan Petroski on Unsplash

 

 

She peeled away the stale layers

Of sorrow,

The sheets that wrapped around the core

Of what had once held

Grins.

And underneath the soot of tears

And grit

And grief

She found the gold that had been

Hidden

Soft against reality’s biting teeth.

 

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Peel